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OSr THE 



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OF THE 



dFtfwtJi Mti^olntion. 



BY WM. C. SOMERVILLE. 



"Indeed the whole world may be said to be like a house full of smoke, which 
in such n anrer Mir ds the eyes, as it suffers not those within it, to see things as 
they are." — Jeremy Taylor^s Contemplations. 

"To live by one man's will became the cause of all men's misery."— FooJter. 
"Mone can love freedom heartily hut good men; the rest love not freedom but 
license, which never hath more scope or indulgence than trnder tyrants." 

, Milton. 

*'\et treedcm — yet thy banner, torn, but flying 
Streams like a thunder storm against the wind." — Byron. 



l^altintcirr: 

PUBLISHED BY EDW4RD J. COALE. 

JOUK D. TOT, PaiSTJER. 

18£2. 



dF CONGRESS 
[WASHlNGTOir 



WSTBTCT OF MAHTIAWD, TO WIT: 

3E IT KEMEMRERED, That on the Iwenty-third day of April, in the forty-swcnlh year of ihe Indtpendenee of the Vo'tlti 
Slatrs o( Aineiic], WillHrtjC. Somerville, of the said District, hath deposited io this office the title of a book, the right whsreof 
he cl>iin; assuthar, ia Che words following, to wit: 

•'L(?liers frOiTi Paris, on the causes and consequences of Ihe French revolution By William C. Somerville. — 'Indeed thewhole world 
mav De said lo be like a house full of smoke, which, in such minner blinds the eyes, as it suffers no: those within it, to see things as 
tne>' irr.' Jfrtmy Taylor's Conltmplatians —'To live by one man's wil., became the cause nf all men's misery.' Hooker. — 'None can 
lovefre»dom heartily but good rn^; the rest lovr not freedom but licens', which never hjih more scope or indulgence than under tyra.Tis.'>. 
lUilton —'Yet freedom— yet thy banner, torn, but flying streams like a thunder storm ogoinil the wind.' £yron." 

In conlormity with Ihe Act of the Congress of lh» United State*, entitled, "An Act tor the encouragement of learning, by securing 
the copies of mips charts, and booUs, to the authors and proprietors of anoh copies, durrog the rimes therein mentioned;" and 
also to the Act, eniirled, "An Act Supplement arv to the Act, entitled, an Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
the copies of m^s, ch-itts.and books, to the authors and proprietors of snch copies, during the times therein mentioned, and 
extending th« bn€Sti ihcreoi to (ho arts of designing, engraving, and etching, historical and other prints." 

PHILIP MOORE, 

dtrk ej the District of Mantani. 



W 






mtonttntn. 



LETTER I. poffc 

On the Condition of France, from 1450, to the death of Louis 
XIIL 1642, 69 

LETTER II. 

On the Reign of Louis XIV. from 1642 to\7\5, - - 87 

LETTER III. 

On the Regency of Orleans, and the reign of Louis XV, 
1715 to 1774, 100 

LETTERS IV. V. VI. 

On the Reign of Louis XVJ.from 1774 until the assembling 
of the States General, 5th May, 17S9, - 112, 121, ISO 

LETTER VII. 

On the Conduct of the National or Constituent Assembly, 
1789 and 1790, - - 141 

LETTER VIII. 

On the Conduct of the Legislative *8ssembly in 1791 and 
1792, 155 

LETTER IX. 

On the National Conventionr—the Reign oj Terror — the Reign 
of Anarchy — the Republic and First Directory^— Character 
of Carnot, Sept, 1792 to 1797, - , , . ij^ 

LETTER X. 

On the Second Directory, and the Consular Government'^ 
Character of Bonaparte^ 1797 to 1^04, = . - 185 



VI Contents. 

LETTER XI. 

On the Imperial Government y - - - - - 19^ 

LETTER XIL 

On the Fall of Napoleon and the Restoration of the Bourbons 
in 1814. The Charter. Errors of the Royal Govern- 
ment, 209 

LETTER Xin. 
On the Character of Louis XVIIVs Ministry. Congress of 
Vienna, Return of Napoleon, _ - - - 222 
LETTER XIV. 
On the Character of the JVew Imperial Government of the 
hundred days — Battle of Waterloo, and second Abdica- 
tion of the Emperor, ^ 238 

LETTER XV. 
Onthe second Invasion of France — conduct of Allies — severity 
of the JVew Government, from the second Restoration in 
July, 1815, until the 5th of Sept. 1S16, - - - 257 

LETTER XVI. 

On the first Law of Elections, and Law of Recruitment; Cha- 
racter of Richelieu^ s Mministratinn in 1817 and 1818— 
Congress of Aix la Chapelle — dissolution of the Minis- 
try , and fall of the Due de Richelieu, - _ _ 27-1 

LETTER XVIL 

On the Administration of Decazes in 1819. Abolition of the 
Censorship of the Press, ^c. Impolitic Opposition of the 
Liberals to this Ministry, . - _ - , 283 

LETTER XVIIL 

Onthe Prosperous Condition of France at the close of 1819— 
unfortunate election and expulsion of Gregoire-— division of 
the Cabinet — Decazes^ new Ministry^-Death of the Due 
de Berri — Fall of Decazes — Restoration of Richelieu— Re- 
lapse of the Government into arbitrary measures, - 297 

LETTER XIX. 

On the Prerogatives of the Crown — Abolition of the Liberty 
of the Press and of Personal Liberty — Change in theLaiu 
of Election-Partial union of Richelieu with the Ultras, S16 



CONTENTS. Vii 

LETTER XX. 

On the Character of the Ultra-Royalist Party — their Reasons 
in support of the Doctrine of Legitimacy ^ - - - 328 

LETTER XXL 

On the Municipal System of France — Roads, Canals, 4'c. — 
Progress of Agriculture since 1789, and Agricultural Pro- 
duce of the Kingdom — Scotch Husbandry, and the Drill 
System of Mr, Coke in England, - - - . 548 

LETTER XXIL 

On the Progress of Manufactures since 1789 — Exhibition of 
the Products of French Industry in the Louvre in 1819. 
Compar ison of the Manufactu res of France and England y S 72 

INTRODUCTORY LETTER, OR RJESUM^, 

On the Effects or Advantages of the Revolution on the 
Morals, Religion, and Internal Condition of France — Er- 
rors of the first Revolutionists — Monarchical Predilections 
of the French — Imperial Regirne — Royal Regime — Char- 
ier and Contravening Laws — Effeats (f the Revolution on 
Education, Literature, and Science, Consequences of the 
English Revolution. Remarks on the present state of 
Europe — Contest between the People and their Governors 
"—Progress of Civilizaton, and probable establishment of 
a Free Government in France,^— -Conclusion, - - - 9 



ILl^fHI^S ^W^^m IFA^SSi 



INTRODUCTORY LETTER* 

Paris, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

There is no period of history so replete with extraordinary 
events as that which has elapsed since the be^innin^ of the French 
revolution; nor any which deserves to be more attentively studied, 
both in its causes and eifects, by all who feel an interest in the 
future fortunes of the human race. As long as the military ascen- 
dency of France threatened the independence of all other nations, 
she excited equally, of course, the solicitude of the ignorant 
and of the accomplished part of mankind; and if, since a series 
of unparalleled reverses of fortune have thrown her back within 
her ancient limits and prevented her soaring above the ordinary 
flight of the great nations of Europe, the curiosity she awakened 
may have lost something of its intensity among the vulgar, it has 

* This letter was the last written, and is now placed first only because it con- 
tains a brief sketch of the opinions of the others and of the present condition of 
some of the states of Europe. It has undergone no alteration except the addition 
of a few introductory remarks from the first letter, and of a note on the military 
occupation of Naples. As the views of the Holy Alliance have completely unfold- 
ed themselves since these epistles were written, some parts of them may possibly 
be suppressed unless what Mendos* says should prove true. "El ambition de la 
emprenta es unacolpa que nobasta arrepantirse." Whatever is given, however, 
will be given unaltered. 

2 



10 

been rather increased than diminished in the minds of reflecting 
men. As there never before occurred in the course of human 
events, so sudden a breakinj^ up of the political encrustations ot 
ages, as that occasioned by the French revolution; and as this 
general dissolution was in itself the inevitable consequence of 
causes similar to those which are now working with more or less 
effect in the other old monarchies of Europe, that revolution 
must be both in its character and consequences an object of the 
highest interest to statesmen and philosophers. Time, it is truCy 
is yet far from having fully developed its ultimate effects on the 
social and political state of Europe; but enough is already known 
to correct many of the apprehensions which have been entertain- 
ed respecting them. The acquisition of moral truths is always 
slow and gradual and a great part of human life is often spent 
in unlearning the errors of the multitude. Independent of the 
obstinacy of ignorance, there is a portion of vanity inseparable 
from our nature which makes the acknowledgment of error pe- 
culiarly mortifying, and for this reason w^e hold up its bandage as 
long as possible before our eyes. 

Those who have written on the French revolution, instead of 
affording an illumination of the causes which produced that enor- 
mous political volcano; or of embodying its existing consequen- 
ces into one view^, so as to enable us to judge with tolerable pre- 
cision, whether its eruptions are destined to increase or to wi- 
ther the bloom of human civilization, have generally argued upon 
it with the prejudices of the nation to which they happened to 
belong and after the artificial habit of judging derived from the 
principles in which they were educated. They have consequent- 
ly been misled rather by the suggestions of interest and the dic- 
tates of passion, than by an absolute want of candour. It has 
been the fashion too among the advocates of the new doctrine of 
legitimacy in France, and among the shallow and presumptuous 
observers of historical events in foreign countries to estimate the 
present moral feeling and political intelligence of the French by 
the monstrous atrocities and follies of the revolution. No sooner 
was the restoration accomplished than a flock of English wri- 
ters, whose spleen had been engendered by the circumstances of 
a long and perilous war, hurried over to France to write journals 
which should harmonise with the tone of public resentment at 



11 

home. Thej accordingly stampt the image of their own preju- 
dices on every observation they made; and so plausible were the 
epicediums they sang on the pretended extinction of morality and 
religion in France, that even in America the public judgment was 
most egregiously misled by their assertions. It unfortunately 
happens frr the respectability of human nature that no country is 
exempt from scenes of vice, and examples of iniquity, which if 
diligently collected together into one frame could not fail to cre- 
ate a most disgusting picture of national character. It is not 
however from the assemblage of all the defects of a people into 
one portrait, but from a comparative view of their good and bad 
qualities that a general conclusion is to be drawn; and for my 
part I confess I do not know on what ground those writers as- 
sume as a given axiom, the perfect moral and religious pulchritude 
of France in 1789. The hierarchy was to be sure at that time more 
richly endowed; cardinals and archbishops moved rather with the 
state and pageantry of princes than in a style becoming the pro- 
fessors of the doctrine of the meek and humble Jesus; numerous 
corporations of luxurious monks then rioted in lofty mansions 
which have been since converted into hospitals, and are now the 
abodes of penury or decrepitude; and the churches were then, no 
doubt, more frequently filled with showy congregations, who con- 
sidered devotion rather as a profession than as an aftection of the 
soul, and who deemed it respectable after the mass was celebra- 
ted to deride revelation, and to speak of religion as a thing only 
"honpoiir lepeuple." But along with the useless pomp and osten- 
tation of that age, religious infidelity has likewise disappeared, 
and the practice of the moral duties of life is now held in higher 
estimation than the mere ceremonies of the church. Those who 
now approach the altar are not attracted by idle parade of their 
religion but by the aspirations of real piety; and that the clergy 
are not abandoned to poverty may be inferred, I think, from the 
fact, that sixty-eight millions of francs (about thirteen millions 
of dollars) are annually appropriated by the government to their 
Support.* 

It is somewhat difficult to fix a standard to measure the moral 
sentiment of a nation, and our opinions of its comparative eleva- 

* Mr. Bei ke only estiiTiates the tythes of England at two and a half millions 
sterling, and Colquhoun those ot the Unitc;d Kingdom at five ndllions, indepen- 
dent of the uuiv'<;rsities. Now, sixty -eight millions ot" francs will go at least as far iii 



IS 

tion can only be at best an induction from particular appearances. 
Now, if the sentiments of personal independence and probity- 
have undero-one no change for the better in France since the re- 
volution, how does it happen that ladies of rank and fashion are 
no longer seen pressing forward with alacrity to sacrifice their 
honour to the royal caprice? Why are Dues and MarecJic^ no 
longer seen soliciting preferment at the expense of the reputa- 
tion of their wives and daughters? The truth is, that in spite of 
the inordinate temptations that have been held out to profligacy 
in France during the last thirty years, real morality and religion 
have very considerably extended their influence. The reform, I 
admit, is very far" from being complete; but it is silently work- 
ing its way every day under the control of public opinion. 

It has been asserted likewise, that the Revolution has flooded 
France with ignorance and immorality; that a general decay of 
instruction has been the consequence of the downfall of the old 
government, and that in spite of the occasional freedom of 
the press in France, the nation has made no advance in political 
intelligence, nor acquired a greater aptitude for the establish- 
ment of civil liberty than it possessed in 1789. But on what 
grounds these broad assertions are bottomed, (since it is admitted 
that the number of crimes has diminished) I know not. If idle- 
ness be the mother of vice, we shall not surely have the immense 
increase of the productions of agriculture and manufactures, 
cited as a proof of the increase of corruption. If a becoming 
regularity of behaviour, and submission to the laws, indicate 
correctness of moral dispositions in a nation, we shall not surely 
hear the bloodless revolutions of 1814 and 1815 cited to prove, 
that the national depravity has increased since that era, when 
every debate in the National Assembly was a signal for a massa- 
cre. Before the revolution, a regiment could not be disbanded 
without leading to scenes of robbery and disorder; after the late 
Vi^ar, halt a million of soldiers were let loose, at a time when all 
regular government seemed suspended, and yet they retired 
quietly to their homes without mutiny or depredation! The in- 
purchasing the necessaries of life in f ranee as five millions sterling in Great ij.itain, 
and tilt trencii cleig) have no famihes to maintain. Formerly the clerg) of France 
vere moie numerous than at piesent. Paris had formerly one ecclesiastic for 
every sixty persons, and now one for every six hundred. 



13 

terruption of agriculture by the invasion of 1815, and the cold 
which blighted the crops throughout Europe in 1816, created a 
great scarcity of provisions, and yet no riots interrupted the 
public peace, or impeded the administration of the laws. In 
1789 the government was bankrupt; the taxes collected at the 
point of the bayonet; the highways infested by robbers; the pro- 
vinces mutinous, and the army disloyal: at present the treasury 
is rich; the national credit good; the taxes are collected with 
facility; travelling is perfectly safe; the departments are obedi- 
ent to government; the army free from licentiousness; and yet 
we are required to believe, that the Revolution has demoralized 
France! 

Most of the governments of Europe unquestionably did 
every thing in their power to make the French Revolution 
disastrous; and that they should now endeavour to keep up as 
long as possible the idea that they have not spent their exertions 
in vain, is natural in the extreme. It is for this reason that we 
hear so often reiterated, with an air of scoffing triumph, the 
question, ''What has France gained by her Revolution?" To 
this it might be replied, that notwithstanding the inauspicious 
events which have attended it, she has gained a new territorial 
division of the kingdom, by which her various dissimilar provin- 
ces have been melted dovyn into one community — an abolition of 
the privileges of the noblesse — the suppression of an oppressive 
ecclesiastical system, and of the right in religious corporations to 
hold landed property-— an equal assessment of taxes over the 
whole kingdom— the establishment of an uniform system of juris- 
prudence, with the trial by jury — a respect for talents over 
birth, with a free access of any Frenchmen to any employment, 
civil or military — the equality of all, in the eye of the law — the 
subdivision of the great estates of the kingdom — ^the emancipa- 
tion of industry from the shackles of Jiirandes and Maitrisses^ 
and consequently great improvements in manufactures and hus- 
bandrv — freedom of conscience in matters of re!i";ion — the liber- 
ty of the press at least for books — a representative form of gov- 
ernment, with a long et cetera of inferior advantages. All these, 
we may be told, might have been acquired without the trouble of 
revolution. True; but w^iat reason have v.e to suppose that a 
government which had refused these blessings to the people for 



14 

centuries, would have accorded them of a sudden, without com- 
pulsion? 

There is no individual who has so largely contributed to mis- 
lead the public opinion on the effects of the French Revolution 
as Mr. Burke. I remember well the difficulty with which obser- 
vation and inquiry have lately removed some of the impressions 
I derived from his writings; and as he has become almost tlie 
oracle of aristocracy, from the fancied verification of some of 
his prophecies, it may not be amiss to examine, in this introduc- 
tory letter, his claim to the praise that is every day so unspar- 
ingly lavished on his sagacity. After exclaiming, that in con. 
sequence of the French Revolution, the age of chivalry was 
gone, and the glory of Europe extinguished for ever, he did not 
hesitate to assert, that ''France had bought poverty by crime,"^' 
and to predict ''that she was going fast, and by the shortest 
cut, to that horrible and disgusting situation of a nation of gross, 
stupid, ferocious, and (at the same time,) poor and sordid barba- 
rians. "t Yet, after waging war for five and twenty years against 
successive coalitions of all the powers of Europe; after having 
suffered the most terrible defeats recorded in the annals of her 
history, and had her territory twice over-run bj hostile armies; 
after having it occupied altogether four years by foreign troops, 
and lost by the last invasion alone, by pillage, contribution, and 
impositions on her new government, for former spoliations tor 
the expenses of the war, and the support of the Army of Occupa- 
tion, a sum estimated at nine hundred millions of dollars; 
France still remains in a more flourishing condition than any 
country in Europe. Her government, which, before the Revolu- 
tion, could not raise, by straining every nerve, a neat revenue 
of more than about ninety millions of dollarst now collects with 
facility about one hundred and eiglity millions annually. So far 
indeed is France from having purchased poverty by her political 
changes, that her circulating medium is gold and silver, whilst 
that of many of her neighbours is paper or adulterated coin; her 
agricultural products have increased near a fourth and her man- 
ufactures more than doubled since the Revolution.§ Thus, in 

* Vol. V. p. 85. tVol. V. p. 185. 

+ See le Rapport de M. le Uirecteur General de Finance, 5 Mai, 1789, which 
estimates the revenue at about 'i75,000,000 ot" livres. 
§ See Chaptal and Costaz. 



16 

spite of her misfortunes, she appears like the fleece of Gideou.. 
"irriguous with the dews of heaven, whilst the rest of the vicin- 
age is dry." 

Almost on the very page too, on which Mr. B. scoffs at Boling- 
broke as a presumptuous and superficial writer, he does not hes- 
itate to predict, that '^along series of years must be told before 
the population and wealth of France can recover in any degree 
the effects of this philosophic revolution, and before the nation 
can be replaced on its former footing."* He even went so far 
as to apprehend her depopulation from the flock of emigrants, 
that were then hurryino; from her voluptuous climate, even 
into the icy regions of Canada, and foresaw in it the eclipse of 
her glory, and nothing less than her absolute ruin. You may, 
perhaps, feel disposed to place this prophecy along side of the 
assertion of a fashionable lady in Paris in 1792, that ''France 
could not then go to war, because the Marshal de Broglie was 
too old." But let us seriously examine its correctness. The 
population of France was variously estimated in 1789. The 
National Assembly ventured to carry it as high as twenty- six 
millions, but the more probable estimate placed it at twenty- 
four and a half millions; and we may therefore conclude it did 
not exceed twenty-five millions. Yet France, after having lost 
about five millions of persons since 1789 by domestic massacre 
and foreign war, contained in 1819, twenty-nine and a half, 
and by this time no doubt contains thirty millions of inhabitants. 
This increase is nearly equal in number to that which took 
place in the century which elapsed from the revocation of the 
Edict of Nantes, to the Revolution. It should also be remem- 
bered, that she now feeds abundantly this augmented population 
on a territory somewhat smaller than that on which her peasan- 
try, from a supposed excess of numbers, were almost exposed to 
famine in 1788.t 

*VoI. V. p. 244. 

t Mr. Neckar's rule for ascei'taining population, by multiplying the annual 
births by 25^, gave France over twenty-ibur millions in 1*80, Tlie multiplication 
of the deaths by 29, and of the marriages by 113J, gave nearly the same result. 
As the relative proportion of births to population in France is now ascertained by 
census to be at present 1 to 21 — 23, his multiplier was prubahly quite iiigli 
enough. But M. Brion de la Tour, Ingenieur Geographe du roi, g;ive as the *'rc- 
sultat, par approximation de nombreuses recherches sur la population de la 
If ranee," twenty -five and a half millions in 1790. 



16 

Mr. Burke predicted, that in consequence of the division of 
France into departments, the inhabitants of that region, instead 
of becoming all Frenchmen, would, in all likelihood, ''shortly 
have no country at all/'* He not only declared, that in a politi- 
cal light he considered France expunged out of the system of 
Europe, but that ''whether she could ever appear in it again, was 
to him a matter of doubt because the fall from a height was 
with an accelerated velocity, but to lift a weight up to that 
height again, was difficult and opposite to the laws of physical 
and political gravitation."! Now whether the Revolution has 
actually "barbarized France," as he prophecied it would, might 
be easily determined by all who have had occasion to observe 
the unparalleled prosperity which the useful as well as the ele- 
gant arts have of late enjoyed in this country; and whether the 
Revolution has "destroyed all her consequence as a nation," 
might be answered by the personal experience of every country 
between the Pillars of Hercules and the Baltic; — ^between the 
Kremlin and the Pyramids. 

It might be easy to enlarge the number of these lofty predic- 
tions which time has shown to be empty of all foundation in the 
nature of things; but the above quotations are sufficient, I con- 
ceive to prove that the opinions of Mr. B. on the consequences of re- 
volution in the old feudal monarchies were fundamentally false. 
He has delivered his ideas, it is true, with a certain sublimity of 
discourse which occasionally confounds the understanding; for 
his mind was naturally so full of light, that even when his thoughts 
are mere prejudices, they resemble the corruscationsof sea water 
when disturbed in the dark. In the beginning of the revolution 
his visions were seemingly verified by the sanguinary follies of 
the populace; but the consequences of a political revolution are 
not to be judged of from its first effects. The characters of men 
are not formed in a day; and no one can believe that the old go- 
vernment fostered morality since so large a body of its subjects 
were found ready (the moment a link was broken in the chain of 
submission) to consider national honour an empty dream, and 
private justice a mere chimera. 

The truth is, that the virtue of France had been *' slain by des- 
potism," and that her rulers, after debauching the morals of the 

* Vol. T. p. 352. t Speech on the Army Estimates. 



17 

nation by the profligacy of their lives, had suffered it to become 
enlightened without being aware of the consequences of intelli- 
gence. No union is so unnatural as that of vice with talents, and 
no forms so hideous as the mo asters it generates. The sudden- 
ness of the revolution unfortunately placed this unnatural con- 
nexion in a very conspicuous point of view; but those who in- 
quire into the character of political revolutions with an eye to 
truth, should be cautious never to confound the ebullitions of 
expiring despotism with the effervescence of established liberty. 
The first constitution of France went into operation under the 
pressure of every embarrassment that ages ot despotism and dis- 
order could accumulate. The wheels of the machine were clogg- 
ed, and the harmony of its movements destroyed. This occurred 
too, when miracles were expected by the sanguine spirit of the 
times from the influence of freedom; for no oue seemed disposed 
io remember that years were necessary to enable even liberty to 
convert penury into abundance, or distress into prosperity. All 
gave way to the inspirations of hope, and none to the dictates 
of reason. Although experience shows that it is not from the 
gusts of passion, but from an enlarged comprehension of gene- 
ral principles, drawn from observation and the practice of na- 
tions that the laws of an empire should emanate, the legislators 
of France precipitately overturned every thing. Unhappily, the 
storm which was then up, had blown out the lights of reason, 
and obscured the stars of experience. The navigators of the 
ship of state spread her canvass too freely to the wind, and as 
they left no helm to guide her, when the wind veered she veered 
along with it, and giving her sides to the roll of the sea, she had 
her masts immediately carried by the board. In this deplorable 
state of things the management of the wreck naturally fell into 
the hands of the most desperate and atrocious of the crew; for 
the mass of the nation being untrained in the exercise of political 
rights mistook loudness of profession for sincerity of heart. They 
had no idea of a government without absolute power, and there- 
fore after investing their new rulers with despotic authority, fan- 
cied themselves free because they had stripped the crown of its 
prerogatives. Vain and ridiculous delusion! and yet what tor- 
rents of blood has it cost this brave and generous nation to get 

rid of it. 

3 



IS 

Men accustomed to regard success as the test of merit dis- 
pense with the sentiment of justice when their ends are best an- 
swered without it; and among the subjects of arbitrary govern- 
ments it very generally happens that a hypocritical zeal for 
liberty declines, in proportion as hope is increased by the 
possession of power. No country ever experienced this more 
cruelly than France, for the theory of liberty spread over her 
before her inhabitants were initiated into the mysteries of 
its practice, or comprehended its nature. Many sensible 
Frenchmen consequently became republicans rather from vanity 
than principle, and the mass of the nation were so ignorant that 
they mistook the degradation of their superiours for liberty. 
''There were then," said Madame de Stael, "perhaps as many 
remarkable men among us as among the English, but that mass 
of good sense of which a free nation is proprietor did not exist in 
France." In consequence of this want of general knowledge, a 
gang of political madmen and scoundrels possessed themselves of 
the powers of the state, and plunged the nation headlong into all 
the horrors of anarchy, despotism, and civil war. The enemies 
of freedom rejoiced at this; they exerted themselves to exas- 
perate the public mind and to heighten the confusion, for what 
they most dreaded, was the success of the revolution. In this 
they were but too successful. For when they had succeed- 
ed in working up the passions of ignorant wretches to acts of 
frenzy, they availed themselves of these to calumniate the spirit 
of liberty by representing every atrocity as its legitimate off- 
spring. But it is not until some nation whose existence has 
been long sweetened by the action of a free government shall 
have been guilty of glutting its vengeance on its governors by 
such infamous atrocities, that those who love and respect human 
nature are bound to relinquish their affection for freedom. If 
men who have been long condemned to live in the obscurity of 
dungeons lose their sight by a sudden exposure to the light of the 
sun, it is not a proof that the open air is less salutary or less con- 
genial with the human constitution than the humidity of caverns. 

Some very judicious writers have imagined that if the life of 
Mirabeau, (the Jupiter Tonans of the national assembly) had 
been spared, he would have arrested the torrent of innovations 
which deluged France immediately after his death. That he 



19 

might have impeded its velocity is extremely probable, but that 
he would have been able to prevent all the desolation it occa- 
sioned is scarcely to be believed. Things had progressed too 
far. The king instead of sailing gallantly on the tide of the re- 
vokition, had made some unmannerly struggles to stem it; and as 
the current had become ruffled and perturbed by opposition it 
had already drifted him among rocks and shallows. The points 
which he jaelded to public clamour were concessions, not grants, 
and those acts which riiia:ht have been beautiful when embellish- 
ed by the grace of charity, became odious when covered by the 
shroud of extorted compliance. If when the accents of liberty 
were first heard In France, Louis had iuiitated Orpheus and at- 
tuned his harp in unison with the siren voice ot the times, he 
might have convinced his people of his sincerity and eluded the 
dangers that assailed him. The French were then peculiarly 
susceptible of the illusions of imagination. They were prone to 
be vain too of the accomplishments of their sovereign, from the 
habit of identifying themselves in some degree individually with 
him. But the ungracious manner in which the king, under the 
influence of the court, surrendered his useless prerogatives, and 
acquiesced in the court scheme of. opposing the army to the na- 
tion, induced the people by degrees to regard him as their ene- 
my, : -.z ..-. • ^ . ,. -• -, -• :. 

e „ - ., ',','■ ■ - 

The legislators of France estimated the civilization of their 
country by the refinement of the upper ranks, and by the taste 
and genius of its artists and literati, without ever remembering 
that its civilization was extremely defective in the education and 
condition of the lower classes of society. They accordingly in- 
ferred that France was the most civilized country on earth. 
They did not perceive that the absolute form of their govern- 
ment, which had raised the rich to a state ot high refinement 
and corruption, had condemned the peasantry to indigence and 
ignorance; or if they did perceive it, they fancied the debased 
condition of the lower orders the inevitable result of the establish- 
ed laws of nature, and as forming, for that reason, no peculiar 
feature in their own national physiognomy. Hence they hurried 
on the revolution with a precipitancy which had well nigh proved 
entirely fatal to the cause of liberty; for from excess of vanity 



20 

the French are so prone to ascribe tlie failure of their revolution 
to their ideal merits, tliat I have heard it asserted in Paris that 
"France was too enlightened to be free!" So universal indeed 
was the delusion I speak of in the first years of the revolution, 
that Condorcet, who was unquestionably a man of extraordinary 
talents and benevolent feelings, was so enchanted with the theo- 
retical excellence of the French constitution, (even at the time 
when the blood-hounds who had usurped its administration were 
in pursuit of his life,) as to exult in its fanciedsuperiority over 
that of America, and to praise it as the most perfect model of 
human wisdom.*^ He never seems to have thought of measuring 
its excellence by the real extent of civilization and morality in 
France; for if he had, he must have perceived how unsuited it 
was to the actual condition of the nation. In this he followed 
the examples of his countrymen, for although there is no subject 
on which more study and knowledge are required to clarify the 
understanding, than government, and none on which more reflec- 
tion is necessary to determine the suitability of any particular 
form of it to any particular state of society, yet there is none on 
which men so universally think themselves qualified to judge. 
Ordinary minds almost always reason from proximate causes to 
their immediate effects, without taking into consideration the 
wide range of circumstances that influence the question. One 
has reason to observe the pernicious effects of this habit of rea- 
soning every day in common life, and to deplore its existence the 
more because there are no errors so obstinately adhered to as 
those which are bottomed on the appearance of reason. 

Abstractedly considered, government is an evil, and therefore 
if it M^ere practicable, it might be best to do without it altogether. 
But as the imperfections of our nature render it indispensably 
necessary to the improvement of our moral and intellectual 
being, it becomes, in its proper application to man, a blessing. 
The former of these circumstances (the inconvenience of the 
restraints of government) makes men of little observation and 
experience so fond of Utopian schemes, and so sanguine of their 
success in application to any people; and it is the latter, (the 
advantage and necessity of some government; that weds adult 
ignorance so powerfully to existing institutions, and reconciles 
* See Proqvess oftlie Hum.Tti Mind, 



21 

it to the abuses of power. In political legislation, the great diffi- 
culty consists in fixing the precise degree of restraint necessary 
for a particular community; for as it should be great or small in 
proportion to the barbarism and corruption, or to the civilization 
and virtue of a nation, a very profound and accurate knowledge 
of these circumstances is previously necessary to judge of it. 

In a society trained up like that of Paris, under the old 
regime, to consider favour and disgrace at court as the tests of 
merit, no high sense of justice could be expected to prevail; and 
to persons accustomed to the unrestrained indulgence of their 
passions, the censorship of public opinion soon becomes exceed- 
ingly irksome. All the habits of life and modes of thought too 
in France were purely monarchical; and as a change of laws 
cannot immediately effect a change of usages, it was very natu- 
ral for the French, as soon as their rage against their rulers was 
over, to wish to return to their ancient institutions, under which 
they had at least enjoyed more tranquillity than under the new. 
The re-establishment of monarchy, however, was retarded in 
France, not only by the number of distinguished persons who 
dreaded the enmity of the Bourbons, but by that immense 
body of citizens who became interested by purchase in the na- 
tional domains, and who constantly apprehended the loss of 
their property as the consequence of a restoration. So conscious 
indeed were the public of a monarchical proclivity of mind in 
the nation, that in the choice of the Directory, none but regi- 
cides were elected. If any solid guarantee of a general amnes- 
ty or oblivion of the past, and a security to the holders of 
places and property of retaining them, could have been given by 
the Bourbons, the soi-disant republique would have expired im- 
mediately. There is every reason to believe that a part of the 
Directory so anxiously wished the re-establishment of monarchy, 
that they suffered many disorders, with a view of reconciling the 
people to the change. They knew full well, that political lib- 
erty is never in greater danger than when intestine wars and 
commotions have so fretted and fatigued a nation, as to render 
it so anxious for tranquillity as to be willing to rush into servitude 
in order to escape from anarchy. The first step, therefore, of 
the monarchical directors was to rid themselves of such of their 
colleagues as were disposed, from attachment to liberty, to con- 



2^ 

solidate the republican system. The revolution of the 18th 
Fructiclor, (4th Sept. 1797) which expelled Carnot and his col- 
league, was accordingly brought about, and during the two suc- 
ceeding years the nation was suffered to be disgraced by defeat 
abroad, and agonized by faction within, in order to disgust it 
with republicanism. There is reason to believe that the Orlean- 
ist party, at the head of which was Sieyes, late minister at Ber- 
lin, hatched a project of putting the Duke of Brunswick on the 
throne of France, with the title of Grand Elector. Monarchical 
predilections, no doubt ran high when Sieyes returned to Paiis, 
after the expulsion of Carnot, and were held at bay only bv the 
republican committee under the influence of Bernadotte. But 
whilst Barras and his friends were intriguing for the Bourbons, 
and Sieyes and his friends for the German Prince, General 
Bonaparte returned from Egypt. The fame of his distant expedi- 
tion, and his sudden apparition in France so electrified the pub- 
lic mind, that Moreau is said to have exclaimed to the directors, 
"Voila I'homme qu'il vous faut." On his arrival in Paris he 
assumed a lofty demeanour indicative of conscious superiori- 
ty, and under the mask of patriotic ambition, put all the 
engines of intrigue in motion. He seemingly gave into the 
schemes of each party. He consoled the Bourbonists with a 
prospect of the gradual accomplishment of their views, as he 
afterwards created a Bourbon king of Etruria to gull them; he 
wheedled Sieyes by an apparent acquiescence in his grand elec- 
toral project; he flattered the republicans by a pretended zeal for 
liberty, and a wish to save them from the jaws of the Jacobins; 
whilst he contented the Jacobins by promising them a share of pow- 
er and a secure possession of their plunder. Each party was of 
course delighted with him, nor did any seem to apprehend his 
intention to assume dictatorial power till the night preceding the 
edatante revolution of the Orangerie on the ISthBrumaire (9th 
November, 1 799.) At a meeting in the Thuileries on that evening 
as Sieyes was reading his scheme of a Constitution, Bonaparte 
revealed his intentions by exclaiming with an air of authority, 
"Efface the words Grand Elector and Absorbing Senate, and 
substitute First, Second, and Third Consuls and Conservative 
Senate." The conspiracy had then proceeded too far to fall back, 
and Sieyes perceiving that the Rubicon was past, is said to have 



23 

exclaimed with characteristical complaisance, '*He is our master; 
we must follow himi" 

In one of my former letters, I have endeavoured to point out 
the high praise to which Bonaparte, as first Consul, was enti- 
tled, for the manner in which he tranquilized the internal dis- 
tractions of France; for the code of civil law he established; 
and for the vigour of his military expeditions. Now, that such 
a man, uniting to the highest powers of genius, a peculiar tact 
for the management of other men, should render himself the 
favourite of a brilliant people like the French, is so natural, that 
i#would seem surprising, that his elevation to the throne should 
not have been immediately foreseen. His excessive impatience of 
all opposition too, give early indications of the despotical cast 
of his character. He promptly illiminated the few independent 
men from the Tribunate, and treated with contemptuous neglect 
the opposition members of the Senate. This alone was suffi- 
cient evidence of a wish to centre all power in himself. ''Car 
il est de la nature du despotisme de tout avilir."* 

The French are far from being an avaricious people, and yet 
their passion for places is so strong, that it may be considered 
the political leprosy of the nation. It is more for honour than 
profit, however, that these are coveted; and therefore after Bo- 
naparte had multiplied offices as far as possible, and reserved 
all appointments in his own hands, he judiciously invented the 
Legion of Honour, as a gratification to private vanity. 

From the moment he ascended the throne, his constant policy 
was, as Tacitus said of Tiberius, t to strengthen the foundations 
of his own power Having fixed his eyes on that object alone, 
he deemed it expedient to preserve the forms of the constitu- 
tion, and to amuse the public for a time with the phantom of 
liberty. The phraseology of the republic was accordingly re- 
tained, and the 14th of July still celebrated, because, as was 
pretended, the Empire consolidated ihe blessings of the revo- 
lution. But the throne of Napoleon was actually established 
without any restrictions on its power. His Senate was the mere 
register of his edicts — his nobility, the ornamental plumage of 
his crown — and his clergy, the preachers of the divine right of 
kingsTd" course the blasphemers of the benignity of heaven. 

* Moblv, f B. iii, GO. 



24 

A scheme of universal conquest was immediately embraced 
by the emperor, and to the accomplishment of that object, every 
principle and feeling of the human heart were sacrificed. A sys- 
tem of overlooking other nations by spies and intriguers, was so 
organized abroad, as to render peace fraudulent, and war atro- 
cious; whilst at home, as in Rome under the Caesars, informers 
were encouraged to struggle, as it were, in a race, who should 
first accomplish the ruin of his man. 

The final organization of the French police, the most tremen- 
dous political inquisition the world ever saw, completed the cir- 
cle of Napoleon's engines of despotism, and enabled him in me 
plenitude of tyranny, to sit like a ''cormorant on the tree of life." 
Under the supervision of that dreadful police, the jocund hila- 
rity of the French people (to whom nature has given more ample 
materials of happiness than to any other) began to partake ra- 
ther of the fierceness of savage brusguerie, than of the gentle 
exuberance of civilized gayety. Suspicion pervaded every circle 
of society, and the fear of treachery poisoned even the confi- 
dence of domestic enjoyment. Before the end of his reign such 
was the ubiquity of his espionage, that there was no hole or 
corner of the empire free from it; and like the head of Medusa, 
it began to petrify every goodly thing that looked upon it. The 
social intercourse of honest people was almost come to a pause, 
and there seemed to be fast reviving in Paris, that gloomy pe- 
riod of imperial Rome, when "men were afraid of knowing each 
other; when relations, friends, and strangers stood at gaze, for 
things inanimate had ears, and roofs and walls were deemed in- 
formers."* 

The peace of Tilsit maybe justly considered as the apogee of 
Napoleon's gr'anaeur. His treasury was then full; his armies 
were magnificent; and his politics governed Europe. But an 
undisturbed career of prosperity, and the perpetual anodyne of 
adulation, had lulled the vigilant activity of his mind, and 
brought him to consider himself so superiour to other men, that 
he regarded their advice as opposition, and mistook their pru- 
dence for cowardice. It is said, that Talleyrand, about that 
time, fell on his knees to implore him to make peace with En- 
gland, and assured him that if he would do so, George III. would 

' Tacitus, b. iv. 69. 



25 

be nothing more in three years than prefect of London. But he 
answered this extravagant assurance by the unprincipled decree 
of Berlin; by the perfidious invasion of Spain; by the disgrace 
of Talleyrand, and soon after of Fouche, and of most of the men 
of talents that had hitherto seconded his schemes of ambition- 
As he had flown over Europe with the speed of the eagle and 
the fierceness of the tiger, to write treaties with the point of his 
sword, he does not seem to have ever apprehended, that it was 
possible for his fabric of despotism to be blown down of a sudden 
like a castle of cards, and that his own greatness might be crush- 
ed under it. 

For a long time the people of France were dazzled by the 
splendour of their Emperor's victories, and consoled for their social 
afflictions by the prospect of his conquering the world. But 
when adversity overtook him, and the brilliant phantom of their 
vain-glorious ambition vanished, their enthusiam for the em- 
peror vanished along with it. The French were, therefore, 
rather the idle spectators, than the active opponents of the first 
invasion of their country,«so that the most gallant efforts of their 
chief could scarcely rouse a single department from its apathy. 
The remains of the old guard may have burnt their eagles and 
drunk their ashes, but he fell unlamented by the French nation, 
and unpitied by his enemies. Most men smiled to see 

"The (lesoiatox*, desolate, 
The victor overthrown. 
The arbiter of others fate, 
A suppliant for his own." 

It may be difficult for posterity to believe it, but it is never- 
theless true, that the ^rsi abdication of Napoleon, caused a jubi- 
lee throughout Europe; for the French rejoiced with other na- 
tions. They fancied it would put an end to wars and conscrip- 
tions; to rapine and oppression; whilst the belief, that there was 
no disgrace in the restoration of their legitimate sovereign, pre- 
vented them from being; sensible of the shame of defeat. Thev 
welcomed the return of the Bourbons, as Clarendon says the 
English welcomed that of the Stuarts. •''The joy was universal. 
Whosoever was not pleased at heart, took the more care to ap- 
pear as if he was; and no voice was heard but of the highest con- 
gratulation, or extolling the person of the king, admiring his 

4 



26 

condescension and aftkbility; raising his praises to heaven, and 
cursing the memory of those villians, who had excluded so me- 
ritorious a prince." Yet how soon in both countries did the 
wand of experience aUay this exuberance of joy, and dissolve 
the visions of hope! The evil of oppression, which the French 
had identified with the rule of the ex-emperor, was soon dis- 
covered to be inherent in the nature of bad systems of govern- 
ment, that in less than a year after the deliverance, a spirit of 
discontent pervaded very generally all the countries once com- 
prised within the limits of the empire. Those nations had 
sighed for repose, and w^ere willing to purchase it at any price; 
but when it was acquired, and failed to bring along with it its 
anticipated blessings, regret and displeasure succeeded to 
thoughtless rejoicing. Tliis revolt of opinion was going on every 
where when Napoleon landed from Elba, and was already so 
strong in France, as to neutralize all opposition to him, although 
it had not gained strength enough to support him vigorously in 
his last campaign. In the German states along the Rhine; in 
Belgium, Saxony, Switzerland, and Italy, great discontent like- 
wise prevailed; but as the humiliation of conquest did not ex- 
asperate in them the hostility to existing governments, and as 
the iron rule of Napoleon was yet fresh in their memories, their 
discontent v/as not then ripe for insurrection, and accordingly 
no rising took place in his favour. 

In France, a violent spirit of resentment animated a few to 
exert themselves for him; but the national enthusiasm had been 
so much damped by the disappointments of the revolution, and 
even patriotism itself w^as so benumbed by the dread of despo- 
tism, that the brilliant exertion at Waterloo was the only effort 
he could get the nation to make for its independence. The 
hope of obtaining liberty in any event was gone; and that fine 
spirit which animated France in the beginning of the revolution, 
and which offered three millions of volunteers for the army, was 
gone along with it. 

The second restoration did not cure the spirit of discontent, 
neither in France nor in the neighbouring countries. It still 
prevails in such force, that it requires the whole weight of the 
Holy Mlliance to keep it down. Arbitrary laws have been enact- 
e:d to suppress it, but these only aggravate the evil, and by con- 



87 

fining it for a time, may cause it to burst out with greater vio- 
lence in the end. In France, in particular, the occasional 
disregard of the charter, and the bad municipal regulations of 
the kingdom serve to inflame it. Casual observers may be 
disposed to doubt this, and to infer that that spirit is dormant 
here, because the nation is tranquil, and because the govern- 
ment is now able, in relapsing into arbitrary measures, to ob- 
tain a majority in the chamber of deputies. But a nation, whose 
memory is yet sore from the stings of a long and disasterous re- 
bellion, maybe almost universally dissatisfied with the new ad- 
ministration of its government, and desire a reform of it, with- 
out being willing to encounter the horrors of a civil war, or the 
dangers of a foreign invasion to accomplish it. There are 
things which men would gladly purchase at a heavy price, but in 
a precarious attempt to obtain which, they might not be dis- 
posed to risk their all. In a country too where the channels of 
information are choaked by tlie censorship of the press, it is 
difficult for any portion of the people to collect and understand 
the real sentiments of the general public; and men are loath to 
move in opposition to government, until they are certain of the 
ripeness of the occasion; for they know that it is as wise to com- 
mit the beginnings of great undertakings 'to Argus with his 
hundred eyes, as the ends to Briareus with his hundred 
hands."* 

If any mode of collecting the free thoughts of the public had 
existed under Napoleon, public opinion would have tempered 
the madness of his ambition; but he suppressed every means of 
ascertaining it, and deceived himself, by mistaking the forced 
applauses of the little multitude around him, for the approbation 
of the heart of the nation. When adversity overtook him, he 
discovered this, and is said to have exclaimed in the bitterness 
of sorrow, "It is public opinion which has put me down — I have 
so shocked it, that I cannot regain its confidence, or excite its 
enthusiasm." Under him, in fact, no indepv^ndence of senti- 
ment was suffered to exist, and his Corps Legislatif itself was 
drilled into a passiveness and subservience, exceeding that of 
the ancient parliaments of France. Tyrants possess an instinc- 
tive sagacity in substituting the semblance for the reality of 

* Bacon. 



28 

freedom. About two centuries ago, artful iTiinisters succeeded 
in destroying tlie states general in France, by persuading the 
people, that the parliaments were as good a shield for the pro- 
tection of their rights. It is thus that those parliaments, which 
in the end became serviceable, by checking the extravagance of 
despotical presumption, were in their origin a source of evil to 
France, because they reconciled her to the loss of her real pro- 
tectors. Cardinal Richelieu, whose mind was solely bent on 
consolidating the royal authority, and extending the foreign in- 
fluence of France, was, perhaps, more than any other indivi- 
dual, the cause of this misfortune to his country. In this par- 
ticular, he acted like the tyrant ^'Dionysius, when he gave to 
Apollo a garment of Arcadian stufl', in lieu of his cloak of 
gold,"* and persuaded him it was better for keeping out the 
heat of summer and the cold of winter. Bonaparte acted the 
same part, when he destroyed all vitality of principle in his 
Corps Legislatif, and then attempted to persuade the French, 
that the public sentiment of France was embodied in it. He 
knew that a draught of pure hemlock might be too bitter to be 
swallowed by the nation, and therefore he bedewed the edges of 
the chalice with honey. It has become, however, a fashion of 
late among the fritfends of liberty, to forget the tyranny of Napo- 
leon, because other tyrants of inferiour parts have arisen to imi- 
tate his example. But the greatness of his talents seem to me 
rather to aggravate than excuse his faults; for we ought to mea- 
sure the iniquity of any offence, by the capacity of its author to 
judge of its deformity. Now surely no one ever possessed a 
finer genius, or a nobler opportunity of beneiming mankind, 
than Napoleon; and no one ever disregarded as absurdly the 
prosperity of the world, when it ca,me in opposition with the 
plunges of his own remorseless ambition. 

The present charter of France was formed, whilst. the events of 
the revolution were yet fresh in the mind of Louis XVIII. and it 
was consequently drafted rather as a remedy for particular evils, 
than with an eye to the true proportions of a representative monar- 
chy. The instrument is accordingly so imperfect, that it cannot 
last half a century in its original shape. It is of an equivocal na- 
ture, half formed in the interests of despotism, and half in the 

* Jeremy Taylor. 



29 

interests of liberty; so that it suits neither a free nor an abso- 
lute form of government. The ultra-royalist party (which is 
now nearly in power) cannot carry its political principles into 
execution, without violating its securities of freedom, and has 
not therefore hesitated to interpret it after the dictates of con- 
venience. When the Liberals get into power, which in the course 
of events they must do, who can believe that they will suffer 
such provisions to exist, as those which refuse the chambers the 
right of proposing laws, and make the sessions of that of the 
peers secret; which require a member to be forty, and an elec- 
tor thirty years of age; which suffer the benches of the chamber 
of deputies to be filled by public functionaries, whose salaries 
are of course standing bribes; and admit the existence of a law 
by which that body is divided into the deputies of the very ricli, 
and the deputies of the tolerably rich? Already has M. Ma- 
nuel announced an ingenious division of the charter into funda- 
mental articles, which the government has no right to change, 
and regulatory ones, which it may alter at pleasure. But in 
practice, the regulatory articles alone have been treated with 
punctilious respect. For at present, the French nation enjoys 
the right of personal liberty by the charter, and the government 
the right of arbitrary imprisonment by a special law;* the char- 
ter guarantees to the former, the liberty of the press, and a 
law secures to the latter the previous censorship even of ca^'i- 
catures and journals of fashion; the charter grants a free tol-e- 
ration in matters of religion, and the government has recently 
placed education in the hands of the Catholic clergy; the charter 
secures the subject the right of petition, and a ministerial ma- 
jority refuses to hear it read; the charter grants the right of 
suffrage to all persons paying a certain tax, and the law virtually 
destroys this, by refusing to three -fourths of the voters, the right 
of voting for nearly one-half the deputies, (the 172,) and ano- 
ther law makes the minister the ultimate judge of the right of 
an elector to vote. Thus there is, seemingly, two governments 
in France, one of right and one of fact; one that speaks, and 
another that acts; one created by the charter, and one substi- 
tuted by law. 

* See Laws of April, 1820, and the amendment. 



so 

Louis XVIII. it is true, exercises all those powers with great 
wisdom and moderation. So much so indeed, that if laws were 
only to be deprecated for the evils arising from their application, 
and not from their general effects on the moral character of a 
nation, there might be but little reason to deplore the existence 
of those powers. But it is not so much the truth that ia sup- 
pressed by the censorship of the press, as the impunity it secures 
to falsehood and vice— not so much the suffering of a few indi- 
viduals whom the right of arbitrary imprisonment may cause to 
be incarcerated, as the universal restraint which the mere ap- 
prehension of it inspires, that is to be deprecated in a civilized 
community. That the king of France should proceed in the ad- 
ministration of his government with consummate caution is not 
only justifiable but highly commendable; yet the day on which 
he suffered his government to separate itself from justice was a 
day of mourning for humanity. There is much reason to believe, 
to be sure, that those members of the oligarchic party, who read 
over every day the pages of the revolution to keep alive their 
passions, prevailed on the king much against his will to adopt 
those measures; but a monarch so justly celebrated as Louis for 
his intelligence, should have seen that it is no longer in the pow- 
er "d'une classe blasee d'enclouer les destinees de la civiliza- 
tion." He ought to have remembered that where men are en- 
lightened, even the heart of loyalty is flawed by laws of terror. 
Such laws, if used, make proselytes by persecution and the blood 
of martyrs; and if not used, where is the utility of shocking all 
rational minds by enacting them. We know from experience 
that power stretched too far defeats its own ends . The dagger 
of Lucretia; the arrow of Tell; the resistance of Holland; the 
tea tax in America; the blood of Sidney and Russell, and the 
'more recent fate of Porlier at Corunna, speak volumes on this 
subject. It is the nature of man to revolt against tyranny, and 
the greater the excess of this, the sooner is he armed with the 
courage to conspire. Hence it is that in enlightened countries 
despotical measures do not prevent but excite rebellion. In 
Great Britain the liberty of the press has created an independent 
public opinion in every village from the isle of Wight to the He- 
brides. The government knows this opinion, and by resting on it, 
finds a foundation as firm as that of a pyramid. The metropolis 



31 

is the mere apgx and has no more influence than it is entitled to. 
But there is nothing of that kind in France. Here there are 
no free journals to form the public opinion, or to shew the direc- 
tion in which it points; of course not much more confidence is 
placed in the assertions of a gazette than in those of a police of- 
ficer whose business it is to deceive. The best intentioned peo- 
ple not being able to ascertain any fact with correctness take but 
little interest in public concerns. This causes the government 
to stand on a very ticklish foundation, like a pyramid inverted^ 
and ready to be blown down by every gust of wind in Paris. As 
no one knows the opinions of the departments, no body relies on 
tliem for support, and hence in all the stages of the revolution a 
successful insurrection in the capital overset the government. 
The debates of the deputies are beginning, to be sure, to form 
the public opinion in the nation, but the ministry are not prone 
to submit to the control of this new agent. Yet the present go- 
vernment was never so strong as during the temporary freedom 
of the press in 1819 An attachment to it was then taking root 
in every part of France; for although a strong voice was heard 
in favour of a reform of its abuses, the suffering of this voice to 
be heard was deemed by the nation at large an unequivocal proof 
of the confidence of the government in itself. 

I have heard it said that notwithstanding the penalties against 
licenciousness, the liberty of the press was scandalously abused 
during that year in France, and that it was becoming a stiletto 
to wound indiscriminately the innocent and the guilty. Now the 
very reverse is the fact Virtuous men then possessed a shield 
in the right of defending themselves, whereas at present the re- 
putation of every man is in the hands of the censors of govern- 
ment; for without the consent of these there is no denying the 
imputations of malignity or revenge. It is quite natural, how- 
ever, that the liberty of the press should have many enemies in 
France, for wicked men do not love the light that exposes their 
crimes. Those whose hands are stained with blood, or whose 
hearts are putrid with vice, or whose coffers are full of the fruits 
of extortion, (and the revolution has brought forward some such 
men) are too cunning to wish to see a mental microscope put into 
the hands of public justice. But a great majority of the people 
of France are honest and well disposed. Is it not then as alv 



3!^ 

surd to refuse them permission to publish tlieir thojights lest they 
might defame their neighbours, as it would be to shut them up 
in their houses to prevent their committing robbery on the high- 
ways? Those who have witnessed the action of a free press know 
that it is the best corrector of error; and that although it may in- 
flict occasional pain by the publication of a libel, it secures ulti- 
mately the triumph of truth, and the infamy of the calumniator. 
What then, let me ask, are the sins for which the liberty of 
the press has been hunted down by a part of the aristocracy of 
France? Did it do more than expose to public scorn the filth of 
corruption; the obliquities of venality; and the charlatan tricks 
of hypocritical patriotism? If a political impostor arrogated to 
himself an exclusive claim of devotion to the present dynasty, it 
may have exhibited him as he once appeared in his capering ca- 
reer, with the bonnet rouge upon his head, and the accents of 
proscription on his tongue. If another boasted of the peculiar 
stability of his own principles during a long period of disastrous 
change, it may have exposed the alertness with which he trimmed 
on more occasions than one. If a nimble courtier may have let 
slip the taunting epithet of Bonapartist against a war-worn hero 
for raising his voice against tyranny, it may have reminded the 
accuser of the livery he once wore when he played spaniel in the 
anti-chambers of the emperor. Did an opulent minister, or a court 
favourite, harangue with desperate intemperance against liberty, 
and proclaim his belief in the divine right of princes, and the expe- 
diency of always having * 'la justice modifiee par les circonstan- 
ces;" it may have reminded him of the obscurity of his own origin 
and the treacheries by which he filled his coffers, and placarded 
his body with ribbons and with stars. It may have done more 
than all this. — It may have enlightened the public mind, and rec- 
tified its judgment, and liberalized its temper, at a time when 
general intelligence and rectitude, and liberality do not suit the 
convenience of the great. These are its sins, and for these it 
hath died but with the certainty of a joyful resurrection; for lib- 
erty, as Lord Bacon said, is "a spark of fire that flieth up into 
the faces of those who seek to tread it out." 

Various causes yet retard the establishment of a pure repre- 
sentative government in France, but all of them are wearing 
away under the friction of time and circumstance- The histo- 



33 

ries of old France are but little more than memoirs of the 
king or court; and hence their very language impedes the 
just conception of a constitutional monarchy. The habit 
of considering the king as the vivifying principle of the state, 
as the fountain of every act and decision of the government, 
had become so inveterate in the nation, that it is hard for 
it to comprehend the transfer of power from his hands into those 
of a responsible minister. Men are often unconscious of the ex- 
istence in themselves of prejudices infused into their minds in 
infancy, as well as of opinons imperceptibly contracted by the 
use of words. In this lies the difficulty of suddenly revolution- 
izing the habits and customs of a nation; for a government may 
be overturned, and the whole structure of society dissolved; but 
the old mode of thinking will still continue in the nation long 
after its causes have ceased to exist, and certain national vanities 
wil' prevail, till time, 'Hhe greatest of innovators," shall imper- 
ceptibly remove them. 

It is, impossible, too, for a very pleasing harmony to prevail in 
the action of a government, whose executive officers entertain 
sentiments hostile to its principles. Now in France almost all 
the civil offices are in the hands of ultra royalists who take pride 
in manifesting an antipathy to constitutional government, and 
who do not therefore make any efforts to bring the present sys- 
tem into credit. Even the peers who constitute the court of the 
Icing, have been seen to leave the royal presence in the palace 
of Thuileries, to go to that of the Luxembourg, to record their 
votes in opposition to any liberal measure the king had ventured 
to propose. In the departments, likewise, municipal officers 
are known to represent the innocent exercise by the people of 
the rights secured to them by the charter, as acts of insubordina- 
tion on the part of disloyal Jacobins;* whilst others more cun- 
ningly mask their designs by extolling the merits of the char- 
ter, at the same time that they exert all their power to 
frustrate the fair execution of it. This indeed is acting up to 
the suggestion of Lord Bacon, that if men would cross a 
business they think others might handsomely and effiictively 
execute, *'let them pretend to wish it well, and move in it 
themselves in such sort as may soil it." It is from these causes that 

* At Lvons and elsewhere. 
5 



34 

there exists a singular discrepancy between the constitution and the 
government in France; for if by constitution we mean the funda- 
mental laws or usages by which a people consent to be governed, 
and by government the actual administration of public aifairs by 
the particular incumbents in office; it may be observed, that the 
latter instead of making the former a constant rule of action, is 
very generally moved by schemes of expediency and views of 
private interest. Unhappily too, the charter stands alone, like a 
temple sprung up by magic amidst a chaos of ruins. The re- 
mains of the old regime are, to be sure, nearly mouldered away; 
but some of the accidental upstart edifices of the revolution yet 
remain, and many of the terrible towers of the imperial regime 
still spread a long and sorrowful shadow over the land. By this 
I would be understood to say, that although the charter of 
France be tolerably free, the government retains, in the details 
of administration, the short and cutting forms of despotism.— 
The ordinances and laws of the old government, of the frenzied 
tyrannies of the Revolution, and of the iron rule of Nanoleon, 
are called up into practice as occasion suits, and they act on 
the present government like lees in wine; they are perpetually 
casting up a spissitude that clouds and corrupts the contexture 
of the whole body; nor can this ever appear completely clarified 
until separated from those impurities. 

But notwithstanding all these impediments to the prompt 
establishment of freedom in France, the present government, 
with all its imperfections, is so superior to any thing she ever 
enjoyed before, and the march of general civilization in the 
departments is so firm and steady under its direction, that the 
most pleasing anticipations of future improvement may be in- 
dulged. Politics are now universally discussed, and an interest 
is beginning to be taken in the affairs of the government in 
every part of the kingdom, from the cottages of the provincial 
villa>.es to Ihe gilded saloons of the metropolis. ''Sous ces rap- 
ports," says De Pradt, "le peuple Francais commence a se 
rapprocher du peuple Anglois et Americain." 

Many good men in France are averse from the attempt to es- 
tablish a free government, on account of the ignorance and want 
of political virtue in the people. They do not reflect that chil- 
dren could uever learn to walk if their feet were kept tied. The 



35 

equalities they reproach their countrymen with wanting, call, 
only be created by a system of education which it does not suit 
the interests of absolute government to establish. In the beauty 
of her climate, in the fertility of her soil, and in the vivacity of 
the natural genius of her people, France is superior to her north- 
ern neighbours. Why then should Madame De Stael blush to 
compare France with Britain and Germany, on the score of 
general instruction? **^Quelques hommes distinguts," says she, 
^^'cachent encore notre misci-e aux yeux de I'Europe; mais I'in- 
structiondu peuple est negligee a un degre qui menace toute es- 
* pece de gouvernement." This assertion must be confirmed by the 
observation of every honest traveller in France, although some 
have been disingenuous enough to ascribe to the revolution 
that ignorance, which has existed from ''time to which the memory 
of man runneth not to the contrary." It is stated by Com^e 
Delaborde,* that there are supposed to be three millions of 
children in France between the ages of six and twelve years, of 
whom scarcely a fourth receive any education. On an estate 
near Bourges, which fell to a young gentleman last year, there 
were thirteen hundred persons, of whom only five knew how to 
write. A school of mutual instruction was immediately opened 
on it by the new proprietor; and such establishments are daily 
multiplying throughout the kingdom, in spite of the opposition 
of the ultras and the clergy, who prefer leaving education in the 
hands of les freres ignorantins, and who approve of the question 
of their great oracle, Louis XIV. to the Due de Vivon^e, "A 
quoi sert il lire?" 

Three hundred Lancastrian schools, and fifteen societies were 
formed in France in two years after their introduction. The 
city of Paris alone contained fifty in the beginning of 1819, and 
the number in France at the end of that year of liberty, was near 
one thousand five hundred, all of which has been established in 
five years. That the march of instruction keeps pace with the 
progress of liberty in every country, and that its extent is deter- 
mined by the extent and duration of liberty every where, are 
facts now too well ascertained by the actual condition of na- 
tions, to be denied. Education is more generally diffused in 
Scotland than in any country in Europe, (not excepting England 

* Paffe 468. 



36 

where tjthes, poor rates, &c. have retarded its ])rogress) and yet 
tliere are but three thousand six hundred schools in Scotland to 
a population of perhaps n^ar three millions, whilst in the state of 
New-York, the greater part of which was a wilderness thirty 
years ago, there already exists six thousand schools in a popula- 
tion of less than one million and an half. Nor is the influence 
of liberty less powerful in the promotion of all kinds of internal 
improvements, than in the diffusion of the means of education. 
The condition of the state to which I have just alluded illustrates 
this. Look at the turnpike roads, the magnificent canals, the 
public houses, and flourishing farms, that adorn the whole ex- 
tent of Country from the Hudson to Lake Erie, (a distance of 
three hundred miles, over which, about twenty years ago, the 
naked Indians were chasing the deer of the forest) and compare 
them, for example, with any thing of the kind that may exist in 
Calabria, or in the island of Sicily which was civilized some i^fx^ 
thousand year^and in which, for the want of roads for wheel 
carriages, travellers are marched about in a sort of sedan chah* 
on the backs of mules and asses. Yet Sicily is the most fertile 
region of Europe, has a delicious climate, and a population of 
three millions which have been enjoying for centuries the blessing 
of a legitimate government.* 

The most serious cause of anxiety for the future fortunes of 
France is the recent restitution of the Jesuits, and the placing 
education in the hands of the clergy. The cross and the king's 
bust, ivithout the charter, have now become the chief ornaments 
of the schools. M. Corbiere who is to supply the place of the di- 
rector general of education, is a man of talents, but a leader of 
the high church and state party, and from him, therefore, no vi- 
gorous efforts to diffuse instruction can be expected.! 

it is not only fashionable in England to consider morals, po- 
liteness, and good feeling, but even the system of education it- 
self, as prodigiously deteriorated in France since the good old 
times when Goldsmith danced and fiddled on the banks of the 
Loire. It is contended that the French have made no advance 
in civilization and intelligence, and this belief is pretendedly 

* A government which all the monarchs of Europe have shice conspired to 
restore and perpetuate! 
t He has since filled that office, and is now minister of the interiour, 1822. 



37 

bottomed on the assertions that no literary productions have 
issued from her press of equal celebrity with her elder classics. 
This assertion, even if true, would no more warrant the conclu- 
sion attempted to be drawn from it, than the declaration that the 
literature of England contained no finer productions than those 
of Shakespeare and Spencer would justify the inference that the 
general intellect of Britain had made no progress since the days 
of Elizabeth. All men of genius do not leave literary monu- 
ments behind them. In the stormy season of revolution the re- 
wards of fortune are showered on active, not speculative, talent; 
and therefore those minds which in the tranquillity of peace 
might have embellished a language with the more exquisite effu- 
sions of taste, expend during such periods their energies in the 
pursuit of political distinction or military glory. Napoleon used 
to say that Corneille wa^ the only man of the age in which he 
lived who had a clear conception of the art of government, and 
that for this reason, if that poet had lived under his reign, he 
would have made him prime minister. Now if the fiery genius of 
Corneille had been once entangled in the coils of politics, think 
you we should ever have been transported by the vehemence of 
Cirina, or charmed by the beauties of the Cid? 

But has the talent of France, though powerfully drawn off to war 
and politics during the last thirty years, really shown itself unwor- 
thy of its ancient fame? The enemies of the revolution may be 
disposed to deny to that event the credit of the eloquent produc- 
tions of Mirabeau, Mounier, Condorcet, Neckar, &c. because these 
men were educated and began to flourish under the old regime; 
but if this argument be admitted, it is presumed it would apply 
with equal force to exclude from the revolution the shame of pro- 
ducing such scoundrels as Robespierre, Marat, Barrere, Fouche, 
&c. Every individual in France now old enough to exercise 
even the elective franchise must have been born under the old 
regime, and every one whose faculties can have arrived at com- 
plete maturity must have been educated under it. The impulse 
of the revolution however on the national genius has actually 
equalled the expectations of every rationally sanguine mind. 
What public assembly, so small in numbers and so disadvan- 
tageously constituted for the admission and developem ent of 
talent, has ever displayed more vigour of intellect, than shown 



38 

ibrih in the discourses of the opposition in the French chamber 
of deputies in 1820? In what language have any works recently 
appeared more enchantingly eloquent, or more replete with the 
unction of fine feeling and liberal philosophy than those of Ma- 
dame de Stael? Not to mention the descriptive elegance of De- 
lille, may I not ask, what poem in the French language abounds 
in a greater variety of affluent imagery than the writings of Cha- 
teaubriand? What essayist in France since the days of Mon- 
taigne has written so entertainingly as Jouy, or produced any 
thing that promises to last longer than his Parisian or Provincial 
Hermits? Which of the French historians is equal to the adopt- 
ed Sismondi or Botta? Which of their ancient politicians has 
written any thing on the nature of government with the force and 
distinctness of conception of Benjamin Constant? And in which 
of the productions of Pascal or Voltaire is surpassed, the vif said 
elegant piquancy of satire that sparkles in the political letters 
of Etienne? 

It is admitted, I believe, on all hands, that Cuvier, La Place, 
La Lande, La Grange, Lavoirsier, Chaptal, Fourcroy, Berthol- 
let, &c. have given to the reputation of France for science a lus- 
tre it never before possessed; and if in additioji to the produc- 
tions of the authors named above, those of Rulhieres, Moleville, 
i)iil(4L Anquetil, Lacretelle, and Royau, of de Genlis, de Cottin, and 
de Souza, of Volney, Arnault, Ganilt, Say, Segur, Denon, and 
Le Brun, &c. have not given a commensurate splendour to her 
literature, they have at least maintained its respectability.* 

* The literary productions of the French for the last thirty years, have been 
underrated by foreigners, because a richer harvest of talent has ripened during 
the same period in Great Britain and Germany. But in a fair balance, the litera- 
ture of England might, perhaps, outweigh that of France; for although the French 
excel their rivals in all those lighter productions ot taste and genius which embody 
the graces ot conversation and shew an "oculum eruditum" in the arts of society, 
they fall short of them in solid monuments of genius. If a temple were erected 
to literature and science with a niche for each individual of the two nations who 
has been pre-eminent in a particular branch, would not that of the tragedy of the 
heart be allotted to Shakespeare, and that of epic poetry to Milton, whilst that 
of the tragedy of imagination might be given to Corneille or Racine, and that ot 
comedy to Moliere? Would not Hume, Robertson, or Gibbon, fill that of real 
history, and Richardson, ^ •- a, or Scott, that of ficticious history? Would not 
Addison claim that ot essay writing, and Pope that of ti'anslation, even while he 
cbtitended with Boileau for that of satire, which might be awarded to Junius in 



39 

That the national taste for books is greatly increased of late 
years, may be inferred, I think, from the fact stated by Mr. Chap- 
tal, that printing puts annually in circulation a value of upwards 
of twenty-one and a half millions ot francs. Before the revolution 
periodical m- orks and newspapers had but little circulation beyond 
the metropolis; but in 1819 about thirty-five thousand journals 
left Paris daily for the provinces, and the circulation of periodi- 
cal works was also very considerable. The taste for newspapers 
is probably the best evidence of the interest a nation feels in the 
affairs of its government, and this taste in France may be almost 
said to have been created by the revolution. The fact that it ex- 
ists in a much stronger degree in Great Britain and America, 
may prove the greater political civilization of those nations, but 
this does not justify the belief that France does not owe much to 
the revolution in this particular. 

An attentive consideration of the histories of civilized nations 
will shew, that the lapse of half a century is necessary after any 
great political revolution to bring its effects on the intellectual 
character of a people to maturity. Nor is it unworthy of re- 
mark, although it may have escaped the observation of philoso- 
phers, that those ages which are most celebrated for the flourish- 
ing df literary men, have usually succeeded by about fifty or 
sixty years to a scene of civil war or domestic trouble. The Pelo- 
ponesian war preceded by about half a century the golden era of 
Grecian literature, and the civil contests of Marius and Scylla 

preference to both of them? If Bossuet, Bourdaloue, or Massillon, obtained a 
preference for pulpit eloquence over Taylor, Blair, or Allison, the French could 
offer no competitor with Erskine, Mansfield, Mcintosh, or Curran, for thai of the 
bar; and except Mirabeau no rival of Chatham, Pitt, Fox, Burke, Sheridan, or 
Grattan, in parliamentary eloquence. If Delille claimed with Tjjompson the niche 
of descriptive poetry, and Descartes with Bacon the merit of lifting the curtain 
from before the field of philosophical discovery, and Lavoirsier with Black tor that 
of chemistry, who could tlie French propose as candidates agaiusl Locke and D. 
Stewart for that of Metaphysics and government, or against Adam Smith for that 
of political economy, or Dr. Johnson in criticism and morality, or Bolingbroke and 
Burke for polemic politics, or Byron that of the poetry of profound feeling? The 
French might be entitled to the niches of natural histoiy, comparative anatomy; 
mineralogy, botany, and the application of politics to history, for Buffon, Cuvier, 
Haiiy, Jussieus, and Montesquieu, but would not the English claim those of natural 
philosophy, anatomy, mechanical invention, and medicine, for Newton, Hervey^ 
Watts, Arl^v. right, CuUen, and Willis? 



40 

were terminated but little more than the same lapse of time be- 
fore the Augustan age. 

Florence, after having been long distracted by the sanguinary 
factions of the Keys and the Eagle, (the Guelphs and the Ghib- 
elines) succeeded before the close of the thirteenth century, in 
organizing her government on a free basis, and by this revolution 
not only tranquilized Tuscany, but laid the foundations of her 
wealth, her glory, and her happiness.* The league of the north- 
ern Italian states after the departure of the emperors; the institu- 
tion of the Jubilee at Rome after the healing; of the contest for the 
chair of St. Peter, with the civil broils of the Colonna and Ur- 
sini; and the removal of the papal see to Avignon, took place about 
the same time. Accordingly in less than half a centurj , Petrarch, 
Boccacio, and their associates, uncovered the embers of litera- 
ture, and lighted the torch of modern poetry. To this we owe 
every thing. An asylum was thus prepared in Italy for the Mu- 
ses, when ''pressed in their flight by the arms of the Turks," and 
we may well tremble, as is said by Gibbon, at the thought, that the 
schools and libraries of Greece might have been overwhelmed be- 
fore Europe had emerged from the deluge of barbarism; "and that 
the seeds of science might have been scattered by the winds be- 
fore the Italian soil was prepared for their reception."t But 
Florence acquired the beneficent government of Cosmo de Me- 
dicis; the last German emperor was crowned in the Vatican; the 
pontifical contests had finally ceased in Rome; and the harmony 
of the christian world was restored by the re-union of the 
Greeks and Latins under Eugenius IV. just before the seeds of 
learning were dispersed in the east by the fall of the Byzantine 
empire in 1453. Nor were those revolutionary changes unpro- 
propitious in their consequences. The golden age of Lorenzo 
de Medicis in the former city, and of Leo in the latter, succeed- 
ed them after the lapse of half a century. It was then that 
Ariosto blew the horn of fiction and filled the air with enchanted 
castles; that Tasso fanned the sparks of inspiration with the 
breath of glory; and that Machiavelli, Guicciardini, and Davila, 
lighted the lamps which they hung up in the temple of philoso- 
phy. It was then that Raphael, Corregio, and Titian, invested 

* Machiavel's History of Florence. 

t History of Decline and Fall, vol. xii. Lond. ed. p. Ill* 



41 

canvass with the sublimity of inspiration, and that Michael An- 
gelo lifted the pantheon into the air. 

It was about sixty years after the end of the civil wars in 
France, (1596 to 1660) that the genius of the French nation 
blossomed into full bloom under Louis XIV. It was then that 
there appeared all of a sudden in this country a constellation of 
great men, such as Corneille, Moliere, Racine, Boileau, Pascal, 
Descartes, Arnauld, Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Fenelon, Boyle, 
Conde, Turenne, Vauban, Colbert, &c. 

About sixty years also after the religious reformation, (1534 
to 1 600) there arose in England a galaxy of great men, such as 
Shakspeare, Spencer, and Sidney; Bacon, Hooker, Raliegh, and 
Coke; Ben. Johnson, Beaumont and Fletcher. Nearly the same 
period likewise intervened in the same country between the end 
of the Rebellion (660 — 1710) and that efflorescence of talent in 
Pope, Addison, Swift, Gay, Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke, Marlbo- 
rough, and Newton, which for a long time secured to the reign 
of Queen Anne the appellation of the Augustan Age of British 
Literature. 

The war of 1735 — 40 in Germany between Frederick the Great, 
Augustus of Saxony, the Empress Maria Theresa, and the King of 
Bavaria bore in the activity and vehemence with which it was car- 
ried on, between nations of the same origin and language, a strong 
resemblance to a civil war. It is accordingly about sixty years 
afterwards, that Goethe, Schiller, Wieland, Werner, Haller, 
Klopstock, Kotzebue, Kant, &c. came forward not otily to res- 
cue the German tongue from the imputation of barbarism, but to 
enrich it with chefs d'oeuvres of genius. 

The last example of this singular coincidence is Scotland. — 
About half a century after her union with England, or rather 
after the Rebellion of 1715, which two events considerably 
altered the habits of that country, she produced her first crop of 
talent in Hume, Robertson, Adam Siriith, Read, Kaimes, Blair, 
Beattie, &c. Nor did a longer period elapse after the Rebellion 
of i745, before Scotland assumed the first rank among nations 
for literature and science; before her PlajfJiirs, Blacks, and Du- 
gald Stewarts, began to unravel the thread of science; her Jef- 
fries and M'lntoshes to display infinite powers of eloquence, 
satire, and philosophical criticism; her Scotts to sport like 

6 



magic with the waud of iictitious story; her Campbells to strike 
the lyre with Pindaric spirit; and her Burns to wake to rapture 
the chords of the Caledonian harp. 

In pointing out this extraordinary conformity of dates and 
events, my object has been to suggest, that nature seems to re- 
quire a certain interval of repose in a nation after a period of 
great excitement, before its intellectual capacities can be ex- 
pected to ripen. The diversities of opinion which lead to civil 
war set men to thinking for themselves, and all the energies of 
a nation are called forth by revolution. The very liberty to 
think gives a new impulse to the human mind; new institutions 
therefore spring up, and among those educated under them some 
men of genius may be expected to appear. The daily enlarge- 
ment of the circle of instruction which is now going on in the 
world, combined with the subdivision of profession and labour, 
may impair somewhat in its application to modern nations^ 
the correctness of any general induction to be drawn from those 
historical facts; but still I cannot think it very presumptuous to 
predict, that a bright constellation of talent will probably arise 
both in France and America, (nay in Spain and Portugal if their 
i-evolutions succeed) during the latter half of the present cen- 
tury. The peculiar form of the American government which 
creates such a demand for political talents; the wide field which 
a new continent opens for professional men, and the great sub- 
division of property in the nation, may retard the production of 
poets and philosophers, until poetry and philosophy become the 
roads to fortune; but I have no doubt the new institutions of 
this republic will give a greater elevation to the range of public, 
genius about the time I have suggested. In France, on the con- 
trary, there is nothing likely to prevent or impede the accom- 
plishment of this prediction, unless the government should be 
injudicious enough to attempt to continue such restraints on 
liberty, as may throw the nation a second time into confusion. 
I admit there is much seeming plausibility in the impression of 
Mr. Hume, that two golden ages are not to be expected in the 
same language, because the excellence of existing master pieces 
of composition is apt to damp the hopes of young genius, and 
excite an ambition for novelty, which leads to corruption. But 
t^\is observation, which was drawn from the experience of the 



43 

Urreek and Latin tongues, does not seem likely to hold good in 
its application to modern nations; for among those the art of 
printing has erected tribunals of criticism which promise to cor- 
rect the aberrations of taste. The many authors of distinguished 
merit who flourished after the middle of the last century in 
France, (Voltaire, Rousseau, Buffon, Montesquieu, Diderot, 
D'Alembert, Raynal, Duclos, Helvetius, Mably, Marmontel, 
&c.) might alone inspire a doubt of the correctness of Mr. 
Hume's position; and I think the number of beautiful writers 
who appeared in England under George III. together with the 
present unrivalled condition of British literature might nearly 
justify the absolute rejection of it. 

As the progress of the human mind depends essentially on 
the discoveries of science, and as nothing administers so abun- 
dantly to the enjoyments of life as a taste for literature, the in- 
fluence of the American government on the arts and sciences 
is a matter of the deepest importance to mankind. Many very 
sensible men I know are disposed to consider human nature too 
imperfect for self-government, and do not therefore hesitate to 
predict, that the passions of the multitude will in a short time 
dissolve the present confederacy of states, erect several fero- 
cious tyrannies in its stead, and turn the genius of our people 
from the arts which embellish or exalt existence, to those which 
destroy or degrade it. Perhaps no attentive observer of the follies 
which have characterized the spirit of faction in every age; or the 
wild propositions for change which occasionally break in on the 
serene wisdom that has hitherto distinguished our national legis- 
lature, can be entirely free from misgivings on this subject. It 
is perhaps equally natural to believe that which one extrava- 
gantly wishes, or extravagantly fears; and accordingly I have 
observed that those who are most fond of indulging that proplie- 
cy, are either the subjects of foreign states unwilling to allow 
the system of polity in their own countries to be less perfect 
than it should be; or irrascible American politicians who have 
been disappointed in their schemes of ambition at liome. I have 
never, I confess, felt any apprehension of that change, or for the 
future prosperity of our union, except in one or two instances in 
which I have seen the people select for a place of coniiilence 
and trust, some individual who had neither the principles nor 



41 

the manners of a gentleman; who was a hypocrite in politics and 
an infidel in religion; who was a merciless tyrant over those 
whom accident or the law subjected to his power; and a fawning 
flatterer and hand -squeezer of those whose voices had invested 
him with the dignity he disgraced. 

The very limited range of political experiments recorded in 
history, and the very superficial manner in which many men rea- 
son on them, and infer similar results from institutions which 
have no resemblance but in name, are the causes of the appre- 
hensions which many entertain of our falling, at least into mo- 
narchy in America. I do not reiuember to have met with these 
fears in any man accustomed to contemplate at large the field of 
human affairs; to reason on it with discrimination, and to trace 
with judgment the real as well as the apparent causes of the 
grandeur and decay of nations. Such men recollect that the 
world has existed too short a time, and that there have been too 
few experiments in government, to justify a positive conclusion 
as to the durability of any particular form of civil polity. Know- 
ledge and wealth are universally acknowledged to be the foun- 
tains of power and national greatness; hence I think the destiny 
of modern nations may be said to be entirely changed by three 
discoveries; — that of printing, which has enabled whole commu- 
nities to become enlightened; — that of the mariner's compass, 
which has enlarged the dominions of commerce and enabled 
great bodies of individuals to enrich themselves; — and that of 
gunpowder, which (by destroying the utility of feudal castles, 
and by reducing the knight in armour, on his steed mailed in in- 
vulnerable accoutrements, to a level with the common soldier,) 
has enabled the peasantry of the old feudal nations to emanci- 
pate and to civilize themselves. 

To assert that a constitution of government which is admitted 
to be sound in theory, cannot long exist in practice, because it 
happens to have been never tried, is unphilosophical, presump- 
tuous and absurd. It might in the beginning have been affirmed 
with equal plausibility of every government on earth. None of 
those rash political conjecturers will pretend, I presume, to have 
more sagacity than Tacitus, and yet this judicious historian 
thouglit that a constitution, compounded of the three simple 
forms, though very beautiful in theory, ''could never exist in 



45 

fact; or if it should, could only be of sbort duration."* Yet 
such is actually the form of the British constitution; and what 
government has ever exhibited more stability and firmness than 
that of England? The American confederacy has now existed 
near half a century, and in spite of the centrifugal tendencies of 
a few factious states, the present government haa succeeded be- 
yond the expectations of its most sant^uine admirers. It is not 
our interest, however, to convince the legitimates of its probable 
continuance. I once heard it said, by peVhaps the most sensible 
prince in Europe, that the duration of ''their system and the suc- 
cess of our experiment were things almost incompatible with each 
other," and nothing perhaps has prevented their secret resent- 
ment from breaking into open hostility against us, but the belief 
that'in time we shall execute their wishes on ourselves. 

The great ingenuity and high monarchical prejudices of INIr. 
Hume have never, I believe, been questioned; and it is therefore 
important to point out the origin of any errour in his reasoning on 
the science of government. He asserts that although all govern- 
ments, free as well as absolute, have undergone a great change 
for the better in modern Europe, yet the monarchical seems to 
have made the highest advances towards perfection. Hence he 
boldly infers that there is a source of amelioration in monar- 
chies, and of degeneracy in republics, which brings them ulti- 
mately on a level.! He admits, however, that although ''our 
modern education and customs instil more humanity and moder- 
ation than the ancient, they have not as yet been able to over- 
come entirely the disadvantages of the monarchical form of go- 
vernment." The liberalizing effects of the moral habits and ex- 
panded intelligence of modern times had not been fairly expe- 
rimented in any republic at the time Mr. Hume wrote, and the 
lights which subsequent events have thrown on this subject, shew 
how dangerous it is to draw universal principles from partial 
facts. The only republican constitution of government w^hich 
has enjoyed those advantages at the time of its formation, and 
gone into operation with some preparation in the public mind to 
receive it, is that of America. Now surely no system of human 
polity, not even the ideal schemes of Plato and Cicero; no, nor 

* L. iv. 33, t Essay on Civil Libeify. 



46 

the Utopian dreams of Harrington and Moore, ever presented in 
theory so beautiful a model of the machine of government, and 
none in operation has ever presented such a scene of uninterrupt- 
ed harmony in the revolving of its various parts, as the republic 
of the United States. The source of improvement so far from 
being found wanting in the composition of that government, has 
actually overcome so many of the inconveniences of all govern- 
ment, that the only objection one hears alleged against that sys- 
tem, is that it is too perfect to last. Now, although appearances 
justify the belief that the American constitution has discovered 
and embalmed the vital principle of regeneration, T would ask 
whether, even after admitting its longevity to be doubtful, we 
should be more wise to reject the enjoyment of it, so long as we 
can preserve it, than the fool was who repudiated the wife he 
loved because she was not immortal? If the law of nature hath 
ordained that every thing on the face of the earth should carry 
in its breast the seed of decay, are we on that account to abstain 
from every enjoyment? If the question be yet unsettled whe- 
ther a free press can prevent the degeneracy of a free govern- 
ment, are we to deem this uncertainty a sufficient reason for the 
prompt rejection of the experiment? At the time when the 
world is making such astonishing progress in agriculture, in com- 
merce, and in manufactures, as well as in every branch of liberal 
science, is the temple of Janus to be kept perpetually open on 
account of the hostility of some men against every improvement 
in the art of government — or are the countries that happen to 
make discoveries in it to be loaded like Galileo with irons for 
knowins: more than the Dominican and Franciscan friars? 

It is well observed by Montesquieu that a despotism should 
have deserts for its frontiers. For the want of such, civilization 
is making inroads into every kingdom of Europe, and poisoning 
despotism every day. Constitutional principles are springing up 
in every direction, and however much their growth may be stint- 
ed by neglect or oppression, they are gaining strength every hour 
and will ultimately push their branches too high and too wide to 
be cut down by even the mercenary legions of despotism. In- 
stead of attempting to cut down the tree of liberty, it would be 
wiser for the potentates of Europe to endeavour to train and di- 
rect it. But kings and courtiers are not wiser than other men; 



47 

and if the bones of those who perished on the island of the Si- 
rens could not, although they rose like white cliffs along the 
shores, deter others from venturing on the same coast, why 
should we imagine that political wrecks should be beacons of 
alarm to headstrong kings and obsequious courtiers? 

I have often been led to wonder, I confess, how even those 
monarchs who disdain the inspirations of an enlarged benevo- 
lence, should be so blind as to reject the dictates of self-interest 
and common sense; for surely it is more glorious to be at the 
head ot a great and powerful nation abounding in the prosperities 
of life, than the master of a few millions of half starved beggar- 
ly wretches and a few hundred vicious nobles. To what, but to 
the co-operation of the public in the government, does England 
owe the power of playing the first part in Europe for the last 
hundred years; from Blenheim to Waterloo if you please? Was 
she not the nation in Europe that was baptized first in the font of 
popular revolution, and was she not immediately regenerated by 
the ablution? Would the star of French ascendency have dated 
its meridian in 1688, but for that triumph of free principles in 
tlngland which caused it from that moment to descend towards 
the horizon until it was again hurled aloft by the impulse of re- 
volution? An equal ability to be great existed in England under 
the legitimate Stuarts as under Anne and her successors. Yet 
under the former her kings were the pensioned hirelings of 
France — her court a stage of debauchery — her master spirits, 
her Sidneys and her Russels, expiating the crime of public vir 
tue on the scaffold; and her Churchhills and Godolphins begging 
a paltry bribe for their king from the French monarch! Look at 
this, and then compare the abject littleness of Great Britain at 
that time, with the large space she soon after filled in the eyes of 
mankind when she had rejected the divine right of kings and es- 
tablished liberty — when her treasury under the management of 
the same Godolphin was pensioning half Europe, and when the 
same Churchhill, (become Marlborough) was shaking with the 
thunder of his artillery the very palace of Versailles. 

Nor has the spirit of liberty ceased in England to extend the 
blessings of civilization, intelligence, and wealth at home, and 
to render her arms nearly irresistible abroad. Can any one be- 
lieve that the internal improvements of that country would have 



48 

ever advanced to their present state of extraordinary embellish- 
ment without it; or that if the inlluence of the popular branch of 
the British government over its foreign policy had been dimin- 
ished, the army of Lord Wellington would have ever encamped 
within the walls of Paris? If any one can, he has a fund of cre- 
dulity that is not likely to fail him on ordinary occasions. 

By this admiration of the spirit created in Great Britain by the 
action of a free government, I would not be understood as ap- 
proving in any degree the use which her ministry has recently 
made of the power which circumstances threw into their hands. 
The republican features of her constitution cannot always coun- 
teract the pernicious tendencies of the monarchical; and the un- 
generous and unbecoming mannner in which her government has 
of late abandoned the guardianship of liberty on the continent 
and lent all its ability to advance the purposes of despotism, is 
an abuse of power which England will have, in due time, to de- 
plore. Her ministry, it is true, have not ventured to make her 
more than an auxiliary member of the holy alliance, for the 
popular part of her government acts on the other parts like salt 
in the ocean in preventing putrefaction. The Borough repre- 
sentation in that country may have most of the defects attributed 
to it by its sensible opponents; but in whatever manner members 
gain their seats in parliament they are in a great degree controll- 
ed in their votes by public opinion, for they feel the absolute ne- 
cessity on all great occasions of carrying it along wdth them. 
There is consec^uently a political vitality in England arising from 
the prescriptive right in the nation of thinking for itself and fed 
by the facility with which information is circulated through the 
country by means of gazettes, that renders it impossible for any 
government to run coun.er for a long time to the vigorous pulsa- 
tions of public opinion. Such an opposition would soon produce 
on that government the same paralyzing effect that the entrance 
of the spectres of divine right and absolute power produced, in 
Mr. Addison's dream, on the goddess of public credit, when they 
caused her bloom of beauty to disappear and the bags of gold 
that encompassed her throne to be of a sudden converted into 
bags of air. 

The rebellion and the revolution of 1688 in England have pro- 
duced on legislation an eifect similar to that which was produced 



4^ 

in geography bj the discoveries of Columbus. Nations are no, 
longer disposed, neither in politics nor commerce, to navigate 
coastwise, but put boldly out to sea in pursuit of the ends they 
have in view. It is therefore a great mistake to suppose that 
the ancient system of Europe has been restored by the parti- 
tion treaty of the Congress of Vienna. A new order of things 
essentially prevails. Questions of public moment no longer 
arise out of the conflicting interest of rival monarchs, but out of 
a contest almost every where existing between the governors 
and the governed. In ancient times it was the fashion to make 
war for conquests; in the middle ages for religion; in later times 
for commerce; and at present for the preservation of the right 
of the few to govern the many. This contest between antique 
prejudice and modern reason may be expected to last some time; 
for the present condition of Europe has been aptly likened, by a 
sensible politician, De Pradt, to its situation in the early ages 
of Christianity. "Old Olympus defended his Gods to the last." 
It was more than three centuries before the thunders of Jupiter 
were silenced; before their echoes ceased to reverberate, except 
in their last retreats, the immortal anthems of Homer and 
Virgil. A political reformation has been actually working its 
way for the last century in Europe, and has much ameliorated 
the condition of even those nations whose institutions it has not 
changed. Its salutary operation in this particular resembles the 
effects of the religious reformation on the Catholic Church it- 
self; and yet we are not to infer, because this church was ena- 
bled to maintain its ground in many countries, that arbitrary 
governments will be able to maintain theirs. It was the object 
of the religious reformation only to correct the practices of the 
christian church, and not to subvert the principles of its faith. 
But the political reformation aims at convincing mankind of the 
possibility of governing themselves, and therefore saps the foun- 
dation of the feudal creed which rests on the belief that men 
must be governed. 

I must confess, that it seems to me, that in proportion as civil- 
ization advances and spreads itself over the mass of nations, 
kings get out of use, like old fortifications. At first view, the 
lofty ivy-mantled battlements of an ancient castle, the massy 
sternness of its wrinkled walls, and the bold projections of its 



50 

cloud -plumed towers, may seem less expugnable, than the sleek 
and grassy smoothness of a modern fortification. But all that 
array, which was a protection against the arrows and lances of a 
barbarous age, only serves to accelerate destruction under the 
play of artillery. It is the same with thrones; — when civiliza- 
tion advances far enough, and experiments in the art of govern- 
ment have been sufficiently tested to enable the batteries of rea- 
son to open fairly on them, all the apprehension with which they 
inspire the vulgar, will only serve to hasten their downfall. Even 
under the present imperfect developement of political civilization 
in Europe, it has been justly said, that "le temps des gouvernmens 
occultes est passe; celui des gouvernemens patents est arrive.'^ 
In fact, appearances justify the belief, that the British and Ame- 
rican constitutions will make the tour of the world. Fifty years 
ago there was perhaps only one representative government ia 
existence. Now, independent of those of Great Britain and 
her colonies; of the four and twenty confederate representa- 
tive states of North America, and of the embryo republics 
of Chili, Buenos Ayres, Columbia, Brazil, Peru, and Mex- 
ico, there exists about a dozen representative constitutions 
on the old continent of Europe. These too have nearly all 
sprung up since the holy alliance took its seat, like the phan- 
tom of the night-mare, on the breast of the body corporate of 
Europe, and sounded the trumpet of alarm against the spirit 
of innovation. The mere establishment, however, of these re- 
presentative governments has touched a chord of public 
feeling, which vibrates in every extremity of Europe. For, al- 
though the heavy despotisms of the north have succeeded in 
curbing for a time the spirit of regeneration in Italy; although 
they may rejoice to see the crescent of the Barbarian still float- 
ing in triumph on the fields of Marathon and Platsea, they 
might do well to remember, that even Prometheus did not long 
succeed in imposing on Jupiter a hide of straw for a real ox. 

Spain* and Portugal were, not many weeks since, the coun- 
tries in Europe on which those, who felt an interest in the for- 
tunes of the world, turned their eyes with the least complacen- 
cy and expectation. They were plunged into an excess of 

* The following pavagrapli Avas wiitten on Spain alone, and a libei'ty is here 
lakea of ificludiug Portugal in it, although the addition produces an anachronism. 



51 

humiliation and servitude, which left them no hope but in the 
^'resolution of despair." Legitimate despotism there prevailed in 
all its native excellence and beauty. The grim form of Tyranny 
not only stretched himself out with voluptuous pleasure, over 
the dungeons of the Inquisition, but expanded himself over the 
whole land, and like Milton's Satan, 

*'With head uplift above the wave and eyes 
That sparklir.g- blaz'd,hjs other parts besides 
Prone on the flood, extended long and large, 
Lay floating many a rood." Book i. I. 195. 

In those beautiful countries, before the late revolutions, in- 
dustry did not second the gifts of nature. With a soil of un- 
bounded fertility, they had a scant population dying of hunger; 
with a climate deliciously soft, producing the finest wool and 
silks, they were comparatively without manufactures; with ter- 
ritories environed by the sea, with coasts indented by fine har- 
bours, and with the most extensive colonies in the world, they 
were without commerce and without seamen. They stood, in 
fact, mere ghosts of countries, without power as members of the 
European confederacy, and without respectability as bodies 
politic. Their natural advantages were much superiour to those 
of Great Britain, and yet how insignificant their relative rank 
in the scale of nations. To what cause then are we to attribute 
this extraordinary contrast, unless it be owing to an impression 
for a long time existing among those people, that their temporal 
felicity, and eternal beatitude depended on their maintaining 
absolute power in the hands of grand inquisitors, and supersti- 
tious monarchs. 

Whether the suddenness of the late transition from slavery 
to liberty, and the omission to provide temporarily for two 
classes of men very powerful in those countries, the nobility 
and clergy, may not still interrupt for a time, the repose of those 
nations, it would be presumption in one of such little experience 
as myself to conjecture. In the natural course of events, these 
causes might be expected to produce much trouble; and if Spain 
and Portugal should escape all the calamities of intestine con- 
fusion, it will be an anomaly in the history of nations, to be at- 
tributed, perhaps, principally to their disgust of civil broils in- 
spired by the recent occupation of those countries by the French, 



52 

,Italj has lost more than any part of Europe by the fall of 
Napoleon. Art and nature combine to render that the loveliest 
and most attractive country on the face of the globe; and yet 
eighteen centuries of despotism have not, it seems, atoned for the 
evils she inflicted on the rest of the world, in the days of her 
prosperity. Accustomed as she had long been to consider every 
invader as a scourge, she abhorred the French during their first 
inroads, and bewailed the lossof her statues and pictures, (which 
with her buildings and her scenery were her living glories,) with 
more sensibility than the loss of her nominal independence. 
A little experience, however, allayed the fever of a resent- 
ment, which time converted into affection. The French ruled 
her with some severity, it is true, but they encouraged her 
industry, infused new lite into her inanimate body, and taught 
her the truth of the suggestion of Addison, "that diligence 
makes more lasting acquisitions than valour, and that sloth 
ruins more nations than the sword."* The Tuscans and 
northern Italians are so fine a race of people, that they want 
nothing but a tolerable government to become the most distin- 
guished in Europe. They once entertained, with ardour, the 
hope of seeing Italy united under one government, and now de- 
precate the domination of the Germans far beyond that of the 
French. The despotism of the latter depended on the personal 
existence of an individual, and left of course the prospect of 
deliverance at his death; but the despotism of their feudal chiefs 
is a system, unaltered by the death of one prince, or the birth of 
another. 

The Italians feel too that no revolution is so replete with mis- 
chief to the governed as that of a restoration. Formerly they 
had imposed by their social habitudes and the accidents of time 
certain limits on arbitrary government which in the absence of 
all political privileges served to protect their civil rights. But 
since the expulsion of the French, the old governments have not 
only in a great measure relapsed into their former tyrannical ha- 
bits, but have in many instances endeavoured to incorporate with 
these, the machiavelian cunning of the imperial regime. They 
are chained too, head and foot, by Austria; the hinges of whose 

* bpectatoi', vol. i. 



53 

]^overnment grate the harshest dissonance in their ears; for there 
is nothing more irreconcilable than the dull and plodding quali* 
ties of the Austrian with the bright and fervent capacities of the 
Italian. Even to the present day the Italians consider all the 
people beyond the Alps as barbarians^ and the Ultramontaines 
in turn are somewhat revenged by turning, the pretensions of the 
Italians to liberty into derision.* 

If it was absolutely necessary for the allies to indemnify Aus- 
tria for the surrender of her claim to Belgium by the delivery 
of any portion of classic territory into her rapacious hands, how 
much more generous and wise would it have been, both with an 
eye to the pi-esent content, and future tranquillity of Europe, to 
have run her boundary from the eastern extremity of Hungary on 
the Danube, to the head of the Gulph of Salonica. Turkey 
was not in a condition to resist it and surely her tyrannical op- 
pression of the Greeks would have amply justified the rescuing of 
Greece from under her dominion. In this event Italy might have 
enjoyed once again the blessing of independence and under a 
federal representative government might have become in the 
balance of power, of heavy consequence in the southern scale 
which is destined to counterbalance the colossal weight of the 

* J^Tote. (1822) 1 cannot forbear making here one reflection on the cruel injus- 
tice and harshness with which the world in general has since condemned the 
poor Neapolitans for their untimely revolution and their impotent eiforls to sup- 
port it. Because a nsition of people bred up under the most ignominious despo- 
tism did not, all of a sudden after the promulgation of a constitution, shew them- 
selves capable of the sublimest virtues of fj-eeraen; because they did not imitate the 
Spartans at Thermopylje; or the Romans when the victorious Gaul entered their 
city, they have been hastily condemned as a pack of dastardly scoundrels who de- 
served their fate. The precipitate flight of twenty thuu.sand Lazaroui, from be- 
fore tixice their numbers of disciplined soldiers, supported by the active co-opera- 
tion, or passive connivance of all the powers of Europe, has been interpreted by 
,jlfcrtl)drawing room politicians as a positive proof that the nation wished no change 
of government, and had been inveigled into an insurrectionary movement by a few 
designing Carbonari! In any thing but politics such an argument as this would be 
too shallow to guil even the most superficial blockhead; and yet many very sen- 
sible men have been convinced by it. Surely, however, there is nothing iiicom- 
prebensible in the fact that every iudiYi(kial in a nation may be willing to get a free 
government without being willing to sacrifice ever} thing to obtain it; and for ray- 
self I owe it to truth to say that as tar as my little opportunity of observation went, 
I did not observe among any people in Europe a more general and moie ardent 
aspiration after liberty than among the intelligent men of Italy. 



54 

Russias "in the north. Such an arrangement would have given 
greater compactness and energy to Austria herself, for the 
Greeks vi^ould have rejoiced at their deliverance from the Ma- 
homedan yoke and have felt a hearty zeal in the cause of their 
new government; whereas the Italians detest the Austrians and 
writhe under the control of a clumsy and awkward government 
which must ever move on the soil of Italy, harshly and heavily, 
like Pharaoh's chariot with the wheels off. 

Austria contains about thirty millions of inhabitants, but is not 
entitled to the weight in the balance of power to which such a 
population would seemingly entitle her, for she is abhorred by 
her Polish subjects in the north, and by her Italian in the south. 
Besides, such is the march of general instruction and civiliza- 
tion in Europe, that no nation which moves slowly in these par- 
ticulars can maintain its relative rank. Now, unhappily for the 
future destinies of Austria, not only does the heaviness of her 
national character impede the progress of improvement, but the 
mildness of her present despotism [at home) both in church and 
state promises to continue for some time the existing checks on 
civilization. The Austrian government bears, in its hostility 
to innovation a greater resemblance than any other in Europe 
to that of China, but it is at the same time far less favourably 
situated than this for the permanence of its institutions. With 
the exception of her eastern frontier, Austria is encircled by a 
string of states to which political and religious toleration has 
given a projectile impulse in the course of civilization that must 
in some degree communicate itself to her. It appears to me 
therefore that unless she should accidentally fall into the hands 
of a prince of extraordinary genius and liberality, who may rouse 
her from her present stupid inertness, the destiny that inevita- 
bly awaits her is that of dismemberment or violent revolution. 
She must awake herself from her sleep of despotism; or else she 
will fall a sacrifice to the ambition of her neighbours and the ne- 
cessities of the times; or be by the genius of liberty too sudden- 
ly awakened for her own prosperity.* 

* The late declai-ations of the emperor oi' Austria at Layback against learning 
and innovations shew the correctness ot" at least a part of the view taken above of his 
policy. About two years since, the author happened to be at Rome when that 
monarch with a suite of six and thirty coaclies and six entered the "eternal city.'' 



55 

The present kingdom of Prussia contains about twelve millions 
of souls, ami as it has been carved out by the diplomatic sur- 
geons of the allies, resembles the wings of a great edifice without 
any corresponding centre. Her eastern extremity stretches to the 
Niemen, and her western over the Rhine, so that she is too un- 
consolidated to act in any future war, either as a spear to assail, 
or as a shield to protect the southern nations of Europe. If 
peace and security had been the real objects of the Congress of 
Vienna, would they have not rounded the Prussian territory into 
a compact form, so as to have enabled its government to hold 
with Austria the balance of power between the north and the 
south? Would they have so elongated it into the territories of 
her neighbours as to make her limbs a mere bon bouche for each 
of them? For who can doubt that the first aggression of Russia 
on Christian Europe will be the seizure of Prussian Poland; that 
Austria, with Saxony, hungers after the dismembered part at 
least of the latter, and that France almost looks on the Rl^ish 
provinces as her own? Unhappily too for the future greatness 
and repose of the Prussian monarchy, her contiguity with the three 
chief powers of Europe may not only prevent a cordial friend- 
ship or alliance with either of them, but check the inhabitants 
in believing that their condition is permanently settled. If the 
present king of Prussia were a great statesman, he might un- 
doubtedly remedy the precariousness of his situation by placing 
himself at the head of the confederated states of Germany, 
whose population altogether amounts to about thirty millions. A 
glorious opportunity of accomplishing this has been open to him 
for the last seven years, and yet he has not had wisdom enough 
to embrace it. Since the overthrow of Napoleon, Bavaria, Ba- 
den, Wirtemberg, Hesse, and nearly all the smaller German 
states, have acquired the representative form of government. 

Amid the indignant feelings excited in seeing **a barbaric emperor climb the high 
capitol," and which were heightened by the view of the hundred thousand ragged 
•wretches that narrowed up the passage of the Flaminian way and the Corso, even 
to the very Forum, he could not help reflecting how much more wisely might ha\>; 
been employed (than in fetes, &c. for the empeiiir's entertainment) tbe million of 
crowns which the government borrowed on the occasion, if they had been applied 
to reiieve and to lift up the inhabitants of that sad countiT from the abyss of degn^- 
dation inte which they have been plunged by near tM'o thousand years of despotism. 



56 

and tlie extreme jealousy and displeasure with which Austria has 
regarded every change, makes it a very desirable object to those 
states to have a great protector in their immediate vicinity. 
When the king of Prussia invited his subjects to rise and expel 
the French, he promised them a constitution in the event of suc- 
cess; and had he fulfilled his engagement with the fidelity they 
did theirs, he would have placed himself, by that act alone, at 
the head of the representative states of the confederacy, and 
have been able to wield in any future war the eificient force of 
forty millions of people. But alas! he prefers the imputation of 
broken faith, and the puerile pleasure of waging war against pro- 
fessors and students, to the glory of being the defender of the 
liberties of Germany. By this shallow policy he has rendered 
his government so unpopular, that he is obliged to maintain a 
military force disproportioned to his means, and feels already 
a diminution of the influence he once enjoyed among the "Holy 
Allies." He entertains himself with the vain imagination, that in- 
telligence is not too generally spread 'over Prussia to be rooted out; 
and deceives himself with the hope of perpetuating an absolute mi- 
litary government. The liberal spirit however infused into that 
country by the great Frederick, is now working its way through 
the body politic silently, like the apparently inert moisture 
*'which is concealed in the fissures of a rock, and which, by the 
expansive force of congelation, will be enabled to rend asunder 
its mass and heave it from its basis."* 

The mind of Frederick the Great itself was better suited to 
the present than to the future. It embraced with ardour, and 
executed with celerity, every project calculated to aggrandize 
immediately his kingdom, or embellish his reign. But he was 
rather disposed to laugh at than to love or to pity mankind; and 
as brilliant theories in politics did not attract very vehemently 
his imagination, he was in some degree the enemy of all political 
innovation that did not tend directly to consolidate his own 
power. Enlightened as the north of Germany then was by the 
consequences of the reformation, and emboldened as it was in 
spirit by the enterprizes of his superb genius, it was peculiarly 
fitted to receive a constitutional form of government. But in- 
stead of unharnessing her from the bondage of feudal tyranny, 

* D. Stewart. 



57 

and giving her a national assembly to renovate her exhausted 
energies and to invigorate her public pulse by the throbs of en- 
lightened patriotism, he preferred knotting and combining his 
heterogeneous provinces together by that creed of despotism 
which subjects the prosperity of nations to the personal charac- 
ters of kings. 

The absolute government of Denmark must render her, while 
it lasts, but little more than a dead weight in the political scale 
of Europe; and the insular situation of Sweden withdraws her in 
a great degree from any active interference in the affairs of the 
south. The great empire of Russia, therefore, hangs like a tre- 
mendous avalanche over civilized Europe; and as the impediments 
which might have arrested its descent between the Vistula and 
the Rhine, have been levelled down or so broken into disjointed 
masses, as to be almost incapable of offering any resistance to 
it, there is little prospect (without a change) of its being checked 
before it reaches the kingdom of France, if even this should be a 
barrier against it. The spirit which animates a part of Germany to 
be sure is good, and if the elements of that vast empire were pro- 
perly combined under a free government, there would be every 
thing to hope from her capacity. But cut up as she is into such 
a variety of states, how small is her chance of escaping (in time to 
resist a torrent of invaders) from the jarrings and jealousies of a 
factious spirit! Broken too, alas! as she is into orders and 
casts, and independent little monarchies, how small is the prob- 
ability of her forming a federal representative government, in 
time to break the storm that is gathering against her in the north? 
If Prussia and Denmark were free, and united with the Germa- 
nic confederation and the Pays Bas in a defensive league, and 
if this union were backed by France, Spain, and Britain, Europe 
would have nothing to appreliend from the northern hive. But 
time only can determine whether the existing governments of 
those nations, instead of accelerating the march of civilization and 
erecting barriers against the ever-toiling wave of the northern 
multitude, may not prefer exhausting their energies in futile 
efforts to embalm at home the relics of barbarism. 

France herself is at this moment in that unpleasant situation, 
where, in the eyes of the court, love of liberty passes for Jaco- 
binism, and a zeal for the charter is interpreted into a fondness 

8 



08 

for revolution. Her ultra-royalists are clamorous for the resto- 
ration of the crown to its ancient prerogatives, and of the no- 
blesse to its ancient right of domination; the ministerialists 
(1820) seek to preserve a monopoly of office in their own hands, 
and wish to carry the regal prerogative very high, but dread the 
absolute ascendancy of the clergy and nobles; whilst the Liber- 
als desire the establishment of a limited monarchy, with its 
dissimilar elements so well poised in the balance of union, as to 
prevent the dangerous preponderance of any one of them. The 
two former parties naturally regard the third with extreme antip- 
athy; and as it is known to be the actual representative of the 
national sentiment, it is looked on with peculiar jealousy, and 
enjoys as little favour at court as the genuine whig party in En- 
gland did under the second Stuarts. Among the most fervent 
of this party is the old Marquis de la Fayette, who has now pur- 
sued, for near fifty years, with undeviating rectitude, the 
path of benevolence and honour. What Mr. Fox said of him 
some thirty years ago, continues true to this hour; for he still 
does honour to liberty, and renders it dear by the virtues with 
which he displays it environed; by the nobleness of his princi- 
ples; ''the unalterable purity of his actions; the wisdom and firm- 
ness of his mind, and by the sweetness, disinterestedness, and the 
generosity of his soul." The singular viscissitudes of his for- 
tunes; the bitter abhorrence with which he has ever been regard- 
ed by all who regret any advancement of the general happiness 
of the world; and the peculiar felicity, and exemption from 
blame, with which it has pleased heaven to connect him with the 
revolutions of the two hemispheres, and to promise him a long 
enjoyment of life to behold the fruits of his labours, will hereafter 
render his merit| more conspicuous, and his memory more ven- 
erable. To no individual, perhaps, did it ever happen to be 
equally odious at the same time to legitimate despots and 
ferocious Jacobins; for when • the- latter chased him out of his 
country, and razed his house to the ground, because, he had no 
appetite for human blood, the former, because he had a love for 
rational liberty, immured him in the dungeons of Olmutz.— . 
When restored to his country, Jb^e disdained the temptations 
held out to him by Napoleon to soil the beauty of his reputation; 
and his gallant sons were consequently denied all advancement 



* 59 

in the army. On the return of the Bourbons, he emerged from 
his solitude and appeared at court; but having met with a cold 
reception from the brother of tlie king, he again retired from a 
scene in which his presence could avail nothing to his country. 
When the hopes of the friends of liberty were blasted by the 
Congress of Vienna and the policy of the Bourbons; and when 
Napofeon succeeded in throwing himself a second time upon the 
throne, General La Fayette became a member of the legisla- 
ture, and was there distinguished as usual for the independent 
manliness of his conduct. Since the second restoration, he has 
succeeded, against the will of the court, in obtaining a seat in 
the Chamber of Deputies, and continues, with becoming modes- 
ty and firmness, to vindicate the spirit of liberty, and to distin- 
guish it from its counterfeit, the spirit of faction. The party 
with which he is connected, contains much the greater part of 
the thinking and enlightened men of the kingdom; but scattered 
as they are over the whole face of the country, and sometimes 
separated from each other by a considerable distance, they have 
not as yet been able to harmonize their views into perfect con- 
cert. But they act more and more in unison every day; their 
attachment to liberty consolidates the foundations of their great- 
ness, so that in spite of the efforts of government to keep them 
down, they must triumph in the end. The testamentary law, 
which compels the division of estates, is one of their most pow- 
erful auxiliaries; and will (except so far as its action is eluded by 
the majorats of the peers) break down the whole aristocracy of 
the kingdom. 

I know there is generally imagined to prevail in France a light- 
ness and frivolity of character, incompatible with the stable virtues 
necessary for a free government. But I am inclined to believe that 
those who entertain this judgment, are men who have not paid 
much attention to the influence of moral causes or government, 
informing the habits of a people. "Aucun peuple ne seroit que 
ce que la nature de son government le feroit etre."* A great 
change has been already produced in France by her representative 
government, imperfect as it is. An air of reflection is now per- 
ceived, by every observer, to be mingled with the brilliant 
gayety which characterizes the nation. The boldness with 
which every political topic has been discussed of late years, and 

* Rotisscau. vol. x>:v. 



60 

the ability with which many important questions have been de- 
bated in the chamber of deputies, have created a taste for the 
moral sciences, and made some acquaintance with them requi- 
site for all who mix in society. Besides, the speeches of the 
Deputies are, notwithstanding the censorship, printed in the 
newspapers, and numerous political opinions are thus dissemi- 
nated over the country, and do give an impulse, formerly un- 
known, to the public mind in France. Foreigners are apt to 
judge of the whole French nation from the idlers of Paris, and 
it cannot be denied, that the Parisians are as the Hermit of the 
Chaussee d'Antin observes, a people more active than occupied, 
more curious than instructed, more solicitous to see than to 
understand, and more anxious to judge than to reflect. 

That the vivacious hurry of existence which characterizes the 
French metropolis, and the round of enchantments that abound 
in it, should keep the minds of niany individuals so perpetually 
whipped up by novelties, as to make them incapable of the 
steady phlegm of the people of London, is no reason why the 
nation should be considered unfit for a gradual enlargement of 
its privileges. I should apprehend much, to be sure, from 
placing the reigns of government in the hands of men whose 
minds were either depraved or derationalized by old fashioned 
coteries, in which every sentiment, springing from reason and 
sensibility, is laughed at as antideluvian. Bonaparte is said to 
have observed, that he could conquer every thing he could touch, 
except the saloons of Paris; and it was no doubt with a view of 
getting fashion on his side, that he so eagerly embraced the op- 
portunity of employing the ancient noblesse. Such is the in- 
fluence of fashion, in fact, in Paris, that one of the most accom- 
plished men I have seen in France, (a man in whom age has set- 
tled the desultory fancies of youth, and foreign travel somewhat 
abated the vivacity of early prejudice,) is so completely under 
its dominion, that he cannot converse ten minutes on a seri- 
ous subject, without expressing ciontradictory ideas; for he never 
once questions the correctness of a fashionable notion, a,nd has 
otherwise a clear perception of truth. But the silent insinu- 
ating agency of a representative government is achieving 
against the saloons, what the whole weight of Bonaparte's des- 
potism could not accomplish. After giving due consideration^ 



61 

then, to all the impediments to the establishment of a free go- 
vernment in France, I think I may venture, without the hazard 
of your thinking me presumptuous, to assert, that it will be 
ultimately accomplished. Indeed, after looking at the dispo- 
sitions of the French nation, as I have done, to the best of my 
ability in every shape and posture, in the course of those former 
letters, which were devoted to tracing the causes and conse- 
quences of the revolution; after comparing every fact and ap- 
pearance, I not only think the above conclusion established by 
very solid induction, but that France has a chance of obtaining 
in some few years, a better government than has hitherto ex- 
isted in Europe. The English have vastly the advantage of the 
French in the habits of liberty and in the freedom of their mu- 
nicipal regulations; but then the French are in turn exempt 
from some of the prejudices against the popular principle in 
government, which time and circumstance have created in En- 
gland, as well as from some of the burthens and inconveniences 
created there by accident or error, and continued from neces- 
sity. 

Great Britain owes, even in the opinion of Mr. Hume,* to 
the division of property occasioned by the reformation, and te 
the "prevalence of democratical principles imder the common- 
wealth^'^'' that activity and vigour of national character, by which 
she has been so pre-eminently distinguished; and as we know 
that the different phenomena exhibited by human societies have 
arisen entirely from the different circumstances in which they 
were placed, we may safely infer the improvement of France 
from the same causes which produced the prosperity of England, 
I am aware there is nothing so adventurous as political prophe- 
cies, both because many adventitious and unforeseen events 
may arise to prevent their fulfilment, but because, such is the 
proneness of mankind to ridicule them, that even philosophers 
themselves are not always exempt from the contagion. Some 
evidence of this is afforded, 1 think, by Dugald Stewart,t when 
he quotes as a very striking and instructive observation, the 
following criticism of David Hume,± on a prophecy in the 
Oceana. "^Harrington thought himself so sure of his general 
principle, that the balance of power depended on property, that 

* Hist, of England, chap. Ixii. t First Dissertation, 114, \ Essay vii. 



62 

he ventured to pronounce it impossible ever to re-establish mo- 
narchy in England; but his book was scarcely published, when 
the king was restored; and we see that monarchy has ever since 
subsisted on the same footing as before." Now, surely a part of 
this prophecy of Harrington was virtually, though not literally 
fulfilled; for although absolute monarchy was- restored, it could 
not subsist, and the revolution of 1688 came to overset it. The 
revolution did not, it is true, abolish monarchy, but it conti- 
nued this form of government under restrictions and limitations, 
with which it had never before existed in any age or country of 
the world. So far, indeed, from establishing it "on the same 
footing as before,^^ as is broadly asserted by Mr. Hume, it might 
not perhaps be difficult to prove that there was more of the true 
republican principle in the new monarchy, than existed in the 
commonwealth at the time at which Harrington wrote. 

The final success of the French in the establishment of a free 
constitution, will surely be a subject of rejoicing to every heart 
that has philanthropy enough to sympathize in the misfortunes 
of so brave, so brilliant, and so accomplished a people. It may 
be justly said, that one cannot step in Greece, without treading 
on a glory, nor in Rome without stumbling over a noble re- 
collection; but, alas, how different are the visions which arise in 
the mind of one who contemplates the public squares of Paris; 
visions which made the virtuous Servan of Grenoble, exclaim 
\^ith a sigh, '^Et moi aussi, je suis homme." Yet the soil, which 
is fertilized by the Seine, is like that which is washed by the Ti- 
ber or the missus; and the soft sunshine, which sheds a hue of 
enchantment over Montmartre, is at least as favourable to the 
perfection of the human character, as the brighter heaven which 
beams on the Palatine, or the more voluptuous sky that glows 
over the Acropolis. France abounds too in examples of the no- 
blest private virtue, and wants nothing but a free government to 
render her renown commensurate with her greatness? The 
brisk and vigorous advances she made on the road to liberty in 
1818 — 19, and the sudden recoil of her government in 1820, 
have led many, and even some of the foreign embassies to im- 
agine, that the French nation was actually retrograding from the 
goal of freedom. But there is no errour so prolific, as that of 
reasoning from accidental appearances to general conclusions^. 



63 

■and no supposition so absurd, as that which assumes that the steps 
of a nation in its progress to liberty must be in regular sequence. 
On the contrary, they resemble rather the labouring of the sea, 
when the tide is rising; one heavy wave rolls high upon the 
beach, and in striving to climb its banks, ''is washed oif like 
those which preceded it, and the watei-s may then look as if they 
were retiring;"* but whilst these billows are beating on the shore, 
the volume of the deep is silently swelling, and gaining strength 
for a heavier surge, which moves forward in its turn, and gains 
more by the new invasion than had been lost by the retreat of 
its predecessor, until at last some one rolls successfully over the 
barrier, and swells in triumph beyond it. 

When the tumult of the rebellion was over, the English nation 
recoiled from what they had done, and took back their ancient 
government again, and such was the excess of rejoicing, which 
many felt, and many feigned on that occasion, that Lord Boling- 
broke was led to suppose from the general adulation of arbitrary 
government which followed, that the liberties of Englan4 would 
have been lost for ever, if it had not been for such great and 
good men as Clarendon and Southampton. But this was a 
hasty and presumptuous judgment; for the success of the rebel- 
lion had sown the seeds of liberty deep in England, and though 
they did not come up with the first sunshine, they were sure to 
come up at last, and with a vigour too, which was not to be 
blasted by the frosts of divine right and passive obedience. 
Such politicians, therefore, as are anxious to augur ill from the 
present state of France, would do well to consider, whether the 
same seed are not universally planted there; and such as are natu- 
rally prone to despondency, may find encouragement in the forci- 
ble reflection of Mr. Fox, that within a short time from those dis- 
mal days, in which men of the greatest constancy despaired, and 
had reason to do so; "within five years after the death of Sid- 
ney, arose the brightest era of freedom known in the annals of 
England." 

That the permanent restoration of absolute monarchy in France 
is impracticable must appear evident, I think, from the facts 
cited in the course of the letters I have written to you; but still 
you may think it very hardy in me to suggest that the probable 
euthanasia of the French charter is a republican constitution. — 

* Taylor. 



64 

But notwithstanding the perishable tendencies of the charter, 
you may probably think that the monarchical habits of the French 
nation — the facility of borrowing now enjoyed by the government — • 
the mercenary spirit of a standing army of 240,000 men— -and 
the terrific attitude recently assumed by the Holy Alliance, are 
very powerful guardians of the present state of things. And so 
they are. But the progress of the human mind is irresistible, 
and the consequences of a high state of political civilization 
inevitable. I cannot help thinking, however, that if the Bour- 
bons were satisfied with governing France for her prosperity and 
glory, with the limitations necessary for the security of persons 
and property; that if they could rid themselves of that feverish 
propensity to heighten and enlarge prerogative, which is the 
malady of kings, 1\_^ they might reign long and happily over the 
French people. For a government in which the king is merely a 
nominal being, with power to appoint the minister designated by 
public opinion; a government in which the chief magistrate is 
hereditary, but capable of exercising power only in proportion 
as he is good, and in which the minister is the real king; bears 
so strong a resemblance to a republic, that the people would not 
be willing for a long time to expose themselves to the hazard of 
revolution to change it. The calamities suffered by France in 
consequence of her late experiment too, will, for some time, 
very powerfully impress on her mind the wisdom of remember- 
ing, that there is no point in human concerns, ''^wherein the 
dictates of virtue and worldly prudence are so identified as in 
the great question ot resistance by force to established govern- 
ment."* The success of the English likewise, under a limited 
monarchy, will long have a prevailing influence over her neigh- 
bours; for fully impressed as I am of the superiority of the form 
of our American government over that of England, I am rejoiced 
to admit, that no system of human polity has ever secured for 
the same length of time, so much prosperity to a community as 
that after which we fashioned our own. With whatever indig- 
nation, therefore, as an American, I might be disposed to regard 
the conduct of Great Britain towards my own country, when I re- 
member that her hostility has been marked by every outrage and 
contumely that jealousy and the affectation of contempt could 

* History of James II. 



65 

inspire, I confess, that as an inhabitant of the world, T am disposed 
to forgive and to forget it. When I look at the eminence she has 
attained in the arts and sciences; on her progress in general civ- 
ilization, and on the disunity of the human character within her 
realm;- — when in addition to all this I reflect on the small por- 
tion of the globe that enjoys the blessings of civilization, and 
how much this small portion owes to the discoveries and re- 
searches of Great Britain, I confess, that far from being dispo- 
sed to rail at the defects of her institutions, I am penetrated by 
a deep feeling of regret for the gloom that hangs over her event- 
ful future. Not that I believe her actual prosperity likely to be 
diminished; for happen what may, her people are too wise to sub- 
mit to absolute government; but only that there is mixed up with 
her immense materials of greatness, some seeds of confusion 
which may subject her to temporary troubles. There is every 
reason to believe, however, that in all civilized nations the ge- 
nius of our species is still progressing, and that even those in- 
conveniences with which time and circumstance may have 
encumbered adult governments, will gradually disappear as the 
principles of legislation become more studied and better under- 
stood. 

I remember to have heard General De La Fayette once ob- 
serve, that America was the most civilized country on earth, 
and assign as a proof of the correctness of that opinion, the exis- 
tence in the United States of almost universal suffrage with the 
most rational of all governments. If this remark had proceeded 
from a native American it might have been considered vain-glo- 
rious — but is it not nevertheless true; for what government in 
Europe could intrust such powers in the hands of its subjects? 
Ten millions of people too, who, like those of the United States, 
know no sovereign but the law; who require the presence of no 
troops to preserve order even in their most numerous public 
meetings; who suffer foreigners to travel freely through their 
country without passports; who universally enjoy the privileo-e 
of possessing arms, and the liberty of locomotion at pleasure; 
who require no restraints on the liberty of the press, except the 
sage control of public opinion; who live perfectly secure and 
perfectly protected, and yet among whom, over the whole ex- 
tent of their territory, the government is invisible, and never 

9 



66 

interferes in the private concerns of an individual, unless he 
violates the law: such a people, I say, must be admitted, even bj 
those who are least disposed to praise them, to be possessed of 
an extraordinary portion of common sense. Equally remote 
from the simple ignorance of savage life and the voluptuous re- 
finements of excessive wealth, the people of America have been 
hitherto too much occupied in the practical concerns of life for 
those who are gifted with talent among them to find leisure to 
devote themselves so exclusively to literature and science, as to 
throw out the lights necessary to give foreigners a just idea of 
the general condition of the nation. The extremes of intellectual 

CD 

cultivation and ignorance are rare in the United States, but the 
average of mental improvement is higher than in any other coun- 
try; and one of the reasons why little encouragement is there 
given to native productions is, that the literary labours of other 
nations, and especially that pre-eminent nation whose language 
is there spoken, are open to the public. The best works of 
British authors are procured without the expense of purchasing 
a copy-right, and are so rapidly re -printed and scattered by the 
American press, that in a few weeks after they appear in 
London, they administer to the intellectual enjoyment of those 
who inhabit the banks of thePotowmac, the Ohio and the Mis- 
souri. The greediness with which those works too are devoured, 
leaves no doubt of the existence of a taste for literature; and 
those who have studied the influence of free political institutions 
on the human mind, feel justified in indulging the most sanguine 
anticipations of its increase and happy influence on the national 
character. 

If the observation of Voltaire, that 'Hhe French have only 
thought by halves, but that the English, because their wings 
have never been dipt, have flown to heaven and become the pre- 
ceptors of the world," be correct, what may we not hope from 
the mind of the whole continent of America, unfettered as it is? 
It was from the best of pre-existing governments, that of Eng- 
land, that v/e borrowed th^ model of ours; and the fortunate cir- 
cumstances in which we were placed, enabled us to select the 
beauties and reject the defects and blemishes which the acciden- 
tal formation of the original had admitted into it. In this man- 
ner we erected a temple of liberty, with a symmetry of form 



67 

and proportion which had been previously conceived to belong 
only to the creations of the imagination. If we rejected the 
gilded dome of the original, which, according to the rules of our 
taste, oppressed the edifice, it was only to embellish the porticos 
that surrounded it; and if we stripped the columns of these of 
their Corinthian capitals, it was only to supply their places by 
the Ionic volute, a more beautiful and a chaster order. Happy 
then in the enjoyment of what we are wont to consider the per- 
fection of social institutions, let us not seek to excite the envy, 
but the emulation of otiier nations; let us rejoice in the pecu- 
liar advantages of our own situation, and leave to others the quiet 
possession of their own governments, and the privilege of con- 
templating them with eqwal complacency and satisfaction. 

I have endeavoured in this supplementary letter to throw to- 
gether such loose thoughts and general political impressions as 
occurred to me, after finishing the letters you persuaded me to 
write; and I would fain hope, that however paradoxical some of 
these ideas may appear to you if taken separately, they will all 
stand justified when regarded in connexion with those particular 
details from which they are mere corollaries. It is not improb- 
able that at some future time, in retrospecting to the many de- 
lightful scenes I have enjoyed in this country, I may be led to 
doubt the justness of the faults I have found with it, and be dis- 
posed to fancy, that a system of polity which gives so much 
happiness and splendour to a nation, deserves to be peipetuated 
in all its parts Certainly where there is so much to admire, 
blame should be awarded with extreme caution. The faults, 
however, which I have ventured to find, have not grown out of 
any disposition to carp and cavil at existing establishments, but 
out of a deep impression of the glorious scene of prosperity that 
would open on France, if her present amiable manners and social 
habitudes could be combined with the advantages which result 
from the possession of free political institutions. 



LETTER L 

Paris ^ Feb. 1st, 1890. 
My Dear Sir, 

I am very sensible of your kindness in requesting to know 
what changes of opinion on the causes and consequences of the 
French revolution, mj short residence in this country may have 
occasioned As my present impressions, however, are th^ re- 
sults of some observation and research, I must claim your per- 
mission in delivering them, to run over the train of reflection, 
which produced them. You are aware that I came to France 
with an opinion very prevalent in foreign countries, that the 
French were demoralized by the revolution, and scarcely fit foe 
a better constitution of government than the military despotisni 
of Napoleon. Even the dreadful energy, or enthusiasm for glory 
which they displayed under his dominion, and which was in a 
great degree a momentum derived from the impulse of the revo- 
lution, I was inclined to consider a proof of the suitableness of 
that government only to their national character. But after a 
very diligent examination of their past history and of their actual 
condition, I must confess, I am Hot only at a loss to point out- 
any period in which the complexion of the public and private mo- 
rals of France was fairer than at present, but even one in which 
there existed half so many happy and unequivocal indications of 
improvement. Although it may be impossible therefore to study 
her history without having one's entertainment occasionally 
dashed with sadness, there is something delightfully consoling 
in the contemplation of the prospect which more propitious cir* 
cumstances are opening before her. 

Two sets of men have exerted their talents with unrelenting 
zeal to misrepresent the effects of the revolution on the French 
character, and in doing so have concurred, from opposite mo- 
tives, in attributing those crimes which sullied it, and whieh 

10 



70 

were the natural offspring of despotism, to the spirit of liberty. 
The first class may be said to have been actuated by principle 
and the second by interest. The one deprecated the revolution 
from an impression that the old system of Europe not only offer- 
ed the most beautiful *'and august spectacle ever presented to the 
moral eye in the long series of ages that have furnished the mat- 
ter of history;" but that all classes of society had acquired un- 
der that system the highest attainable degree of moral and intel- 
lectual improvement. The other dreaded the revolution because 
it sapped the foundations of their peculiar privileges and threat- 
ened to deprive all those, who had greater reason to boast of their 
birth than of their merit, of the exclusive enjoyment of hereditary 
wealth and honours. When the first signal of political reform 
appeared in France, these two classes contained most of the rank 
or fashion, and much of the talent of Europe. Accordingly an 
outcry of ominous prediction broke out almost simultaneously in 
every country; passionate resentments were kindled by inflamma- 
tory accusations; all arts were essayed to defeat the plans of the 
reformers, and a dreadful scene of confusion ensued, which 
seemed for a time to verify the apprehensions of the Aristocrats. 
But of late, great political events have unfolded themselves in 
such rapid succession, and the temper of contemplating them has 
been so much sobered down by the general peace, that a feeling 
of hesitation and of doubt, as to the correctness of the anti-revo- 
lutionary theories, has begun to manifest itself very generally on 
the continent. The revolutionary flame too, which was supposed 
to have been extinguished at the restoration in France, has since 
broken out in the neighbouring countries, and continues every 
where to smoke and sparkle so vigourously under the rubbish 
that covers it, as to justify the belief that it will in the course of 
the present century consume the whole fabric of arbitrary power 
in this quarter of the world. In order to form a rational conjec- 
ture of the probable consequences of this change on the system 
and state of Europe, it is necessary to run back a little into past 
ages, and to examine in regular sequence the political chain of 
causes and effects which have influenced the moral condition of 
mankind, since the discovery of the art of printing. I shall 
therefore endeavour in the course of these letters, first to ascer- 
tain the origin of the spirit of political reform in France, and to 



71 

show how it advanced commensurately with the genius of civili,- 
zation; and afterwards to ascertain the effects which the revolu- 
tion it occasioned has produced on the French nation, so as to de- 
termine with tolerable precision what will result from similar 
changes in other countries. 

The History of France, prior to the commencement of the six- 
teenth century, exhibits only a spectacle of barbarism alternately- 
venting itself in acts of vexatious cruelty at home, and of san- 
guinary tyranny abroad. It offers but few recollections on which 
the heart can repose with complacency, or the mind meditate for 
instruction. The history of a people plunged in ignorance; the 
dupes of priests, and the slaves of nobles; of a government de- 
generating into despotism, and a religion sliding into supersti- 
tion, presents pretty much the same sort of character in all 
countries. In the long catalogue of the earlier kings of France, 
how many bad hearts and depraved understandings — how many 
acts of injustice, rapine and cruelty start up in our memories, 
at the names of Charles, and Louis, and Philip. Prior, indeed, 
to the sixteenth century, the spirit of chivalry may have shed 
the first dawnings of civilization on the higher classes of society; 
but the great body of the people were essentially what Csesar 
represents them to have been before the Christian era, a nation 
of fierce and cunning barbarians; faithless, full of vivacity, and 
easily elated by success; but equally incapable of magnanimity 
in triumph, and of fortitude in misfortune. In speaking of the 
French in the middle ages, M. De Voltaire observes, that "on 
remarquera seulement que la nation francaise etait plongee dans 
rignorance sans excepter qui croient n'etre point peuple." 

About the middle of the fifteenth century, almost at the same 
moment that the Eastern Empire expired under the sword of 
Mahomet 2d, and the art of printing was discovered in Germany, 
the English were expelled from France, and the monarchy re- 
stored to its ancient beauty. The consolidation of Spain by tlie 
junction of Castile and Arragon, and of England, by the union 
of the two roses, together with the discovery of America, fol- 
lowed soon after; so that an important revolution took place al- 
most simultaneously in all the great states of Europe, and pre- 
pared the way for that progressive amelioration of morals and 
manners which constitutes the peculiar glory of modern times. 



y2 

Charles VII. under whom France achieved her independence^ 

was rather the spectator than the creator of the wonders of his 
reign, and owed more perhaps to the imbecile inertness of his 
rival, Henry VI. than to the inspirations of his own genius. The 
jealous, fiery, and imperious temper, and. the profound dissimu- 
lation of his son and successor Louis XI. did so much to weaken 
the insurgent ability of the nobles, that although he left them 
rather confounded than subdued, he may be said to have laid the 
solid foundations of the French monarchy. His son, Charles 
VIII. whose reign closed the fifteenth century, secured still fur- 
ther the internal tranquillity of the kingdom by the acquisition of 
Brittany to the crown, but wasted its resources by a wild chi- 
valrous expedition into Italy. As the links in the chain of causes, 
which have combined to produce the modern French character, 
become visible only during these reigns, I cannot pass over in 
silence a circumstance which, whilst it points out the furious 
tyranny that had previously prevailed, may aid the judgment in 
forming an idea of the social relations of this people in that age, 
I allude to the very touching picture of national distress pre- 
isented to Charles VIII. by the states general assembled at Tours. 
They stated that the people were so oppressed by military and 
civil officers, as to be obliged to fly from their ruined houses, 
and subsist in the forests — that they were so impoverished by 
the seizure of their cattle and property, as to be forced to attach 
their wives or children to their ploughs — that some were obliged 
to work by night, and conceal themselves in the day, in order to 
avoid being seized and thrown into dungeons, and that others, 
reduced to the last extremity of despair, had been known to 
murder their families, and abscond into foreign countries for 
nourishment! 

Charles unquestionably did something to abate the severity of 
these distresses; but it was the milder and more beneficent ad- 
ministration of Louis XII. that principally softened the rigour 
of regal tyranny in France, and exercised such a sweetening 
influeiice on her morals, as made her at his death the most beau- 
tiful inheritance in Europe. Good and valiant princes are S9 
rare, that it is always painful to point out their errors, if these 
proceed from the folly of the head, or the corruption of the heart; 
but it can scarcely tarnish the glory of the short and illustrious 



78 

r^ign of Ldtiis ^11. to observe, that in common with the princes 
of that age, he suffered himself to be misled by a phantom of 
ambition. The brilliant but unfortunate career of his predeces- 
sor, together with his pretensions on the Duchy of Milan, through 
his grandmother Visconti, and a prospect of the crown of Na- 
ples, allured him into Italy, where after marching unprofitably 
over the country, with victory in his van, and disaster in his 
rear; after wasting the treasures of his kingdom, and the blood 
of much of his brave nobility, he committed (without securing 
the affections of the Italians,) the capital error of ruining the 
weak, and augmenting the power of the strong, so that, like 
many other conquerors, he ended pretty nearly where he began. 
The great folly of kings has ever been, the belief that the true 
art of government consists in enlarging the extent of their do- 
minions, and not as it really does in the invigoration and embel- 
lishment of those they already possess. Few princes have pa- 
tience and generosity enough to labour for posterity. The visions 
of vanity, and the schemes of self love, are for the most part 
the directors of their policy; and therefore they act like tenants 
on short leases, who force their lands to the utmost, and provid- 
ed they can gather a tolerable crop themselves, feel no regret for 
the ruin of the land, nor anxiety for the fortunes of those who 
are to follow them. 

It is one of the principal inconveniences of the monarchical 
form of government, that it not only renders the moral character 
of a nation dependent in a great degree on the personal charac- 
ter of the sovereign, but exposes the sovereign more than any 
other individual in his dominions to corruption, from the circum- 
stance of his being born to power, and of course surrounded 
with parasites from his infancy. It is perhaps owing to this cause 
that the greatest and best kings of France have been those who 
were not born with a certain prospect of wearing the crown, but 
came into possession of it by accident, after having learned wis- 
dom in the school of adversity. Louis XII., Francis I., Henry IV., 
and Louis XVIII., might be cited as examples in support of this 
suggestion. Francis I. it is true, had his reason staggered by a 
too sudden dash of prosperity, and his morals injured by the too 
early enjoyment of regal power; yet he was a prince of distin- 
guished talents, and his reign, which lasted from 1515 to near 



74 

the middle of the sixteenth century, had a great influence in 
forming the French character. Perhaps, however, the indiscre- 
tions and the adventurous knight-errantry of Francis, were for- 
tunate for mankind, since the destinies of Europe probably hung 
at one time on his religious caprice. The encroachments and 
practices of the papal see had excited considerable discontent in 
France at the time that Luther unveiled the sun of reformation; 
so that if Francis, whilst its rays were spreading over Germany, 
Switzerland, the Low Countries, and England, had nursed the 
resourses of his kingdom, and embraced with moderation the 
side of the Huguenots, he must have become the head of the 
Protestant league, and in the end of his reign, the most power- 
ful potentate in Europe. A kingdom so extensive and centrally 
situated as France, invigorated and enriched as it must have 
been by a few years of peace, would have become, in alliance 
with Protestant Germany and England, an over-match for the 
Empire and Spain, so that Francis, instead of wasting his energies 
in the victories of Marignan and Cerisoles, or losing every thing 
"except honor" on the fields of Bicoque and Pavia, might have 
not only acquired the ascendency in Europe, but have drawn a 
3Word, which, in the hands of one of his successors, might have 
cut the gordian knot of universal conquest. But this prince 
was born with a temperament too sanguine to perceive the ob- 
stacles that might impede the course of his own hot ambition, 
and he therefore plunged presumptuously into a sea of experi- 
ment, and after a variety of heroicai adventures, ended his voy^ 
ao-e less happily than he began it. The fondness of Francis for 
martial and courtly gallantry, fascinated the regards, and em- 
bellished the character of the French nation; but the best fruits 
of a wise administration ripen in after times, and although it 
may not be fair to put "all upon the king," it is just to lay 
something to his charge. 

Under Francis I. the effects of the art of printing began to be 
very sensibly felt; a thirst for learning made its appearance, and 
a taste for the fine arts began to quicken and expand itself. The 
observations of that monarch in Italy had enlarged in his mind 
the views of liberal curiosity, and led him to invite to his court 
some of the most respectable artists that flourished at that time 
under the Italian republics. But the age was essentially barba- 



7b 

rdus, and [listory furnishes us with ample proof, that when the 
heats of religious controversy broke out, a spirit of ferocity pre- 
vailed in the French nation, that led (in contempt of justice, and 
the dictates of moral sentiment,) to the most monstrous inhu- 
manities. The numberless victims that were consigned for their 
speculative opinions to the rack and the flames; the desolation of 
the Vaudois, and the massacre of its entire population; the tear- 
ing to pieces of Jean le Clerc with red hot pincers, for having 
spoken against images and relics, and a varietv of other atroci- 
ties, justify the observation of Voltaire, that when the bishops 
and the parliament lighted funeral piles, the king did not extin- 
guish them, because his heart was as much hardened to the mis- 
fortunes of others, as it was softened by his own pleasures. 
These assassinations \fere the commencement of that cloud of 
persecution which hung over France during the latter half of the 
sixteenth century, and rendered it one of the most dismal pe- 
riods in the history of man; '"a period, the contemplation where- 
of," says John de Serre, a contemporary author, "makes my 
hair to stand upright, and my heart to tremble."* 

Henry II. did the Huguenots too much injury not to fear them; 
and from the moment he feared, he wished to exterminate them. 
The parliament, however, remembered that the first martyrs of 
Christianity had made converts by blessing the hands of their 
executioners, and it was therefore disposed to toleration; but the 
atrocious house of Guise had then become so powerful, that by 
intimidating the weak minded, bribing the corrupt, and inflam- 
ing the passions of the resentful, they not only succeeded in 
dispelling from that body the sweet spirit of mercy and conci- 
liation which had begun to prevail in it, but in substituting in 
its place a sourness of temper, and a spirit of vindictive perse- 
cution, which not even the virtues of an Hopital could after- 
wards extinguish or abate. Under the influence of this passion., 
the voice of all France became attuned to tlirenes of sadness, 
or to the tumultuous and cannibal cry of ferocious joy. The 
morals of an amiable, though half barbarous people, soon be- 
came so brutalized by executions and massacres, that if it were 
not for the light which a few such shooting stars as H^ital and 

* History of France, p. 697, fol. ed. London, 1611. 



76 

Coligny shed on that gloomy age, we might imagine that for a 
period of twenty or thirty years, a night of universal ignominy 
had shut in on this bright realm of France, and that a rain of 
divine vengeance deluged it. 

During the domination of Catharine of Medicis, and the house 
of Guise, under the reigns of Henry II., Francis II., Charles IX., 
and Henry III., which nearly closed the sixteenth century, the 
French historians assert, that religion became a mere sangui- 
nary worship, whilst wealth and honours were lavished 
only on those who were accomplished in the obliquities of 
perfidy;— that the fine arts falling into neglect, lost the charm 
which for a time they had acquired over the minds of the nobles, 
and that literature, suffocated by oppression, enriched the lan- 
guage with nothing but "the expressions of malice and re- 
venge."* The martial sternness of chivalry, which was manly, 
if not humane, gave way to a finical hypocrisy, so that from that 
day the consciences of French courtiers became jocund under- 
the pressure of vice, and gay in the midst of crime. Under 
Charles, the nobility took lessons in the exercise of the dagger^ 
and the practice of an empoisoner or a hireling assassin, was so 
respectable that the place of their abode was a matter of public 
notoriety. Nor can posterity easily forget that it was under 
the government of Catharine of Medicis, that the amiable and 
beautiful Queen of Scots, just then in the bloom of youth and 
adolescence, was conducted with the court into a balcony at 
Amboise to enjoy the luxury of public executions; nay, to be 
derided with laughter, because, unfamiliarized with blood, she 
could not behold a spectacle of horror without affliction. To 
form an idea of the morals of the court, (says Millot,t who wrote 
under Louis XV.) it is only necessary to conceive ail sorts o^ 
vice carried to the greatest possible excess; superstition, atheism,^ 
debauchery, hypocrisy, cruelty, poisoning, and assassination, 
were the praiseworthy accomplishments of the day. Every one 
acted in such seeming ignorance of the principles of right and 
wrong, and such contempt of justice, that private morals became 
as atrocious as they were depraved. The whim of a priest 
might exalt into virtue acts which the christian revelation ha^ - 

* History des GueiTes civiles, 3 vol. p. 394.. f Hjistory of France. 



17 

denounced as crimes; and the caprice of a mistress justify the 
murder of a friend! 

Although the seeds of moral principle which these bad times 
sowed, were never fairly eradicated out of France, I would not 
tire your patience by recalling your attention to the dismal 
events* of a period in which, ''on parlait d'une conta2;ion, d'une 
famine comme en d'autres temps on aurait parle d'un accident 
leger," if there was not a striking coincidence between them and 
the principal atrocities of the late revolution. It was at the close 
of the i 6th century, that the good people of Paris benevolently mur- 
dered, for the safety ot his soul, any person who, in passino- throu^-h 
the streets, omitted a reverence to the innumerable crosses, and 
images of saints and madonnas, or who might even refuse a con- 
tribution to replenish the lamps which burnt before them; at the 
close of the 18th the populace of Paris massacred everyone they 
suspected of entertaining respect for such images. It was then that 
Charles IX. could offer up in a single day one hundred thousand 
human sacrifices, on what his hellish imagination conceived to 
be the altar of the Lamb of God; it was now that Robespierre 
would immolate an equal number of victims, in what his soul of 
malignity fancied to be the temple of liberty and peace. The 
devastation of the peaceful dwellings of the Vaudois, in the val- 
lies of Provence and Dauphiny, by D'Oppede, was the model of 
the La Vendee war— the drownings in the Loire were conducted 
on nearly the same plan by the Guises, as the revolutionary mar- 
riages of Nantes by Carrier — the inscription over the door of 
Joseph Le Bon's tribunal at Arras, that v/hoever came to plead 
for those confined on "a suspicion of being suspected, should be led 
to the little window," (the guillotine,) was copied nearly after that 
of Cardinal Lorraine at Fontainbleau, when he erected a gallows, 
and proclaimed by trumpet, that all who came to solicit mercy 

*The butcheries in Bordeaux, Guienne, L'Angoumois, La Marche, and St. 
Onge, by Montmorenci, nnder Henri 11.; the drownings in the Loire, and the 
hangings at Araboise until the air was infected, by Car. Lorraine nnder Francis II. 
the flagellations and hangings by Montlue and Guise under Catharine of Medlcis, 
and that climax of human villany, the night of St. Bartho' mv under Charles IX. 

«*Nous avons vu,"says Volaire, « les judges d'Angleterre sous Henri VIII. et 
sous Marie exercer des cruautes qui font horreur.; les FrAirais qui passent p)ur 
un peuple plus doux surpasserent beaucoup ces barbaries faiUiS au r.o.u de la reli- 
gion et de la jnstice." Vol xviii. p. 2'28. 
11 



78 

of the king for the suspected, should be hanged on the spot. 
Thus I think we may conclude that the Ultra Monarchist and 
the Ultra Jacobin are pretty much the same sort of animal in 
France, and that they transfer, with equal alacrity and a zeal 
equally enli[-htened5 the republican to the scafiold and the roy- 
alist to the guillotine. 

The wounds which the several branches of the Guise family 
inflicted on France may have been healed by time, but the stain 
of moral turpitude that they imprinted has been very lasting. 
For a state, in the infancy of its greatness, in which civilization 
was struggling through the incrustations of prejudice, to fall into 
such hands, was an unspeakable calamity; and how so sensible 
a man as Mabiy, after reviewing the infamous conspiracies they 
hatched, and the butcheries they executed; after observing that the 
government would have ceased to have been despotic if the base 
ambition of the Due de Guise had not prevented the grant of the 
demand of the States General of Blois, under Henry III. — after 
even asserting that if the Guises had existed under Louis XIII. 
the horrors of the league would have been acted over again; how, 
after all this, he could let slip the following palliation of their 
crimes, I cannot imagine. "Retranchez les Guises de notre his- 
toire et vous n'y verrez ni moins de desordres, ni moins des 
guerres civiles." 

From these disgusting recollections of depravity and vice, over 
which the imagination grows weary and the heart sickens, we may 
turn with pleasure to the opening of the seventeenth century. — 
It was then that the sceptre of France fell by accident to a 
young hero, replete with the charms of humanity and justice, 
whose short but eventful life was a continual struggle against 
the fanaticism, cupidity and thirst of blood, which the most 
wicked of all governments had transfused into the French char- 
acter. There is indeed something so recreating in the prospect 
of Henry IV. devoting his gallant life in the field in the cause of 
justice or toleration; giving his hours to the study of plans for the 
improvement of his people, and his leisure moments to the ele-^ 
gant fascinations of gallantry, that I often find myself ready to 
join this grateful people in the excess of enthusiasm with which 
they recal and applaud his virtues. And why should they not? 
They who have so little that is purely what it should be in their 



t9 

history, is it no proof of their goodly nature to dwell with elation 
and vanity on its most delightful era? The sweetness of Hemy's 
administration touched the hearts of his subjects, whilst the pa- 
rental solicitude and vigour with which he watched over the 
state, and converted the angry spirit of faction into the zeal of 
allegiance, excited the admiration of foreigners* The tendency of 
the kingdom to fall asunder again into baronial fiefs (arising from 
the independent operations of the nobles during the civil wars,) 
being now no longer augmented by the dangerous ambition of the 
house of Guise, went on diminishing every day, till the presump- 
tuous conspiracy of Marshal Biron led to that spilling of his 
blood, which cemented the v,^hole kingdom into one compact 
body. 

To Henry IV. France owes all her greatness; and if her fanat- 
icism had suflfered him to live, and to follow the dictates of 
Sully's understanding, he might have effected the entire reform 
of her moral character. But the ignorance of the age caused the 
titles of liberator and restorer of France, of which he was so 
ambitious, to be misunderstood; and it was left for time to 
develop, and for succeeding ages to admire the greatness of his 
plans. 

Henry found the finances of France in so deplorable a state, that 
of one hundred and fifty millions of livres paid by the people, 
twenty-five millions only reached the royal treasury. He re- 
formed these abuses, and to ease the burthens of the nation, sup- 
pressed, as fast as the prejudices of the public would permit 
him, those brevetted titles of nobility, or tickets of exemption 
from taxation, and those sinecures which the venal folly of his 
predecessors had incorporated into the administration of the 
government. He introduced that order, regularity, and disci- 
pline into the army, which afterwards secured such brilliant tri- 
umphs to the French arms under Turenne and Conde. The encou- 
ragement he gave to industry, combined with the activity of his po- 
lice, nearly destroyed the numerous bands of roving brigands that 
had hitherto interrupted the intercourse between the provinces 
and plundered travellers on the highways with a sort of licensed 
impunity. The effect of his solicitude for the encouragement ot 
agriculture was so great, that the price of land was doubled and 
the number of cattle quadrupled in France in fifteen years: whilst 



80 

the country, which he had found in a state of beggarly starva- 
tion, %vas not only abundantly relieved, but became a granary 
for foreign exportation. Many parts of France, when he came 
to the throne, lay waste for the want of roads and canals, 
but he and his great minister were so sensible of the util- 
ity of these engines of civilization, that even at the fail of the 
monarchy, after the lapse of near two centuries, there scarcely 
existed any thing of the kind in France which was not either 
commenced or planned by them. The Seine and the Loire were 
united, and the canal of Languedoc, the great good work of 
Louis XIV. proposed; whilst various roads wound themselves 
in every direction over the face of the country. Nor were his 
roads like those of his successors, mere highways of Ostentation, 
in the enormous width of which there is land enough uselessly- 
condemned to support the labourers necessary to keep them in 
repair. He erected new palaces, and embellished those which 
already existed; raised up colleges for the education of youth, 
and built hospitals to shelter those who had gallantly defended 
their country, or who were sinking into the infirmities of decrepi- 
tude. The Duke of Sully, in fact, was the first statesman who laid 
hold on the clue, which being followed up by later philosophers, has 
led to the centre of the abstruse labyrinth of political economy; 
and revealed the beautiful simplicity of a system, whose entan- 
glements were formerly imagined to be too intricate for comprehen* 
sion. It was the policy of that great minister to liberalize the 
public mind, and with this view he established libraries, univer- 
sities, museums, and botanical gardens, so that before the end of 
his administration, the genius of civilization arose in France, 
and ''o'er the dark scene her silver mantle threw." In short, 
almost all the great works of utility or embellishment which were 
executed in this kingdom in the seventeenth century were the 
offspring of his genius, although the pompous parade with which 
many of them were carried into effect by Louis XIV. occasioned a 
temporary forge tfulness of their origin, and robbed their author 
like Columbus, for a time, of his true reputation. 

But however much we may be disposed to admire the plans 
of Henry and Sully for the improvement and decoration of 
France, they all yield in sublimity to the noble war they waged 
against the prevailing vices of the age — to that pure benevolence 



81 

and spirit of enlightened toleration with which they attempted 
to subdue the angry factious spirit which fifty years of trouble 
and fanaticism had irritated and matured. It is somewhat re- 
markable that civil wars in the nations of modern Europe have, 
in spite of the immediate injury they inflicted, been almost in- 
variably the causes of much improvement in the end. Thus 
when the religious wars were over in France, and when the en- 
ergy they awakened had been directed a few years by a wise 
government, nothing prevented France from acquiring an entire 
ascendancy in Europe but the death of Henry The re -organi- 
zation of a government after its dissolution usually places it more 
in harmony with the spirit of the age; and in France the very 
opposite doctrines which were then preached with great vehe- 
mence smoothed in the end the asperities of prejudice. Had the 
Ligue accomplished its purpose the power of France might have 
been at this day on a level with that of Italy or Spain, for at that 
time the Spanish monarchy was more powerful and held a more 
imposing attitude in Europe than that of France. But the latter 
after being torn to pieces by religious factions, became enlight- 
ened by toleration, and fell under the dominion of a hero, 
whilst the former was hushed asleep in the arms of a bigotted 
monster, better calculated to calumniate than to civilize man- 
kind. Whilst Henry full of glory and the projects of honourable re- 
form was arranging: the foundations of a splendid kingdom, Philip 
was putting down the spirit of independence by the unanswera- 
ble arguments of the sword and the gibbet — was extinguishing the 
spirit of reform in the damps of the inquisition and lulling the 
pangs of his conscience by a reverential submission to i^wo. casuis- 
try of his confessor. 

Before the reign of Henry IV. the French nobles were a rough 
martial race of men living in castles surrounded by ditches, and 
who, though full of activity in the agitation of war, slumbered 
away existence in the tranquillity of peace. The ecclesiastical 
corps, though animated by the z^l of intolerance, were disso- 
lutely free in their morals, and prone to perpetuate ignorance, 
whdst the great mass of the people lived in a state of misery and 
insignificance almost on a level with the brute creation. To 
remedy these evils Henry encouraged the nobles to reside in the 



82 

country, and impressed them with the belief that the good man- 
agement of their estates was a surer road to fortune than an ob- 
sequious dangling at the heels of the monarch. He taught them 
bj his example to live simply; to cultivate an acquaintance with 
their tenantry; to instruct them in agriculture and to soften as 
far as possible the severity of their condition. 

But however much the beneficent administration of Henry did 
to abate the ferocity of national manners it lasted too short a 
time to effect an entire moral revolution in the kingdom. On 
the contrary a variety of circumstances prove how far the French 
were from being entirely humanized before his death. The many 
attempts on the life of this pattern of kingly excellence; the san- 
guinary phlegm with which the court probably destroyed him at 
last; the licentious disorders that were perpetually breaking 
out over the kingdom in spite of his good government, and the 
fact that the theatres were obliged to open at two o'clock, in or- 
der not only to avoid the mud in the streets, but the assassins 
that prowled through them during the darkness of the night, are 
sufficient, I think, to w^arrant the assertion that the beginning of 
the seventeenth century was not the golden age of morality in 
France, and that she was not even during this blossoming period 
of the olden time, in any degree happier or better than she is 
at present. 

I have already suggested that the spectacle of political gran- 
deur, which modern Europe offers to our regards, w^as unfolding 
itself at that time, and that it was the impetus which France de- 
rived from her civil wars and from Henry's genius that carried 
her prosperity so high and enabled her to take the lead among 
modern nations. The pleasing influence of Henry's character in 
smoothing the asperities of ruder manners by the refinements of 
gallantry, and in sweetening the bonds of social intercourse by 
gayety and politeness, is yet discernable in France after the 
lapse of so many ages. I may hereafter have occasion also to 
point out how much the liberty of conscience he established in 
this country promoted its prosperity, and how soon the loss of it 
led to the decay both of private morality and national grandeur; 
for although the singular coincidence may never have been ob- 
served, it is unquestionably true, that the sun of French glory 
during her monarchy seems to have risen on the publication of 



83 

the edict of Nantz in 1598; to have gradually ascended for 
near a century when it touched its meridian in the year of the 
revocation of that edict, 1685, and to have declined from that 
day forth till it went down after nearly an equal lapse of time in 
the stormy sea of the revolution. 

The salutary maxims of Henry's administration were some- 
what checked in their operation by the machiavelian principles 
of his queen, for France was twice scourged by matrimonial 
connexions with the princes of Italy. To Catharine of Medicis, 
conjointly with the Guises, she owed the massacres and desola- 
tions of the Ligue, together with that madness of bigotry and 
taste for blood, from which she has found it difficult to rid her- 
self. To Maria, she was indebted, if not for the death of 
Henry, at least for the disgrace of Sully, and the perfidious 
education of Louis XIII. as. well as the suppression of the 
states general, and as many of the wise regulations of Henry, 
as were not too firmly dove -tailed into the government, to be 
separated by her mischievous hands. 

In the session of the states general, held in 1614, after the 
death of Henry, a like spirit of independence to that which be- 
gan to display itself about that time among the Commons of Eng- 
land, broke out among those of France. One of the first decla- 
rations of that assembly was, that no power, either temporal or 
spiritual, had a right to dispose of the kingdom, or to dispense 
with the oaths of allegiance; and that to assert that the church 
might authorise the assassinating of kings, was both impious 
and detestable. There was somethino; however in this lang-uase, 
too audaciously liberal for the temper of the nobles or clergy, 
and the court, in spiritless or cunning acquiescence with their 
sentiments, dissolved the assembly, and not choosing ever after- 
wards to convene it, the crown gradually usurped its powers. 
At that time, the French people were not intelligent enough to 
feel that they had a right to legislate for themselves, nor did the 
nobles sufficiently understand the science of government, to 
foresee that the loss of political power condemned them to 
insignificance. 

In England, although the royal prerogative was carried high 
during the long and prosperous reign of Elizabeth, a number 
of great men had sprung up to difiuse intelligence over the 



84 

nation, and to set it to thinking on political, as well as on meo- 
logical subjects. The good principles which they disseminated 
had time to take root during the dreaming reign of king James, 
so that when his son came to the throne, the love of privilege 
had acquired sturdiness and vigour enough to resist tlie shocks 
of prerogative. When the storm afterwards came on with 
greater fury, common sense too was sufficiently alive to be 
aware that nothing could save the nation but a resolution to 
larave it. The English, therefore, renovated their free principles 
by a successful rebellion. 

In France, oa the contrary, the sentiment of civil liberty had 
not had time to work itself well into the public mind, before the 
reins of government fell into the hands of one of the most per- 
nicious subduers of the human intellect, that the accidents of 
modern diplomacy have brought to light. You will readily per- 
ceive that I allude to the C ardinal de Richelieu, who camp into 
absolute power in 1624, and continued to hold it near twenty 
years; who, by very enlarged plans of external policy, dazzled 
the imaginations of his contemporaries, but who used every insi- 
dious stratagem to break down the spirit of liberty and indepen- 
dence at home, and to consolidate on their ruins the foundations 
of despotism. He possessed, as Mably observed, an inordinate 
thirst of power, without either the virtues or the lights, that are 
desirable in the leader of a great nation. But to a lofty de- 
meanor, he united that inflexibility of character which subdues 
common souls, and which fatigues or astonishes those that are 
endowed with more than ordinary courage and prudence. 

The only sparkles of republicanism that were stricken out by 
the collision of hostile factions in France, before the late revolu- 
tion, appeared among the disciples of Calvin during Richelieu's 
administration. But this lynx-eyed tyrant was among the first 
to foresee their consequences. He loved despotism for itself, 
and saw evidently that there would be a general conflagration of 
the edifice of both church and state tyranny, unless these occa- 
sional fires were extinguished before the flame acquired volume 
enough to throw light on, and reveal the gloomy purposes of his 
soul. He therefore turned all his engines that way, and extin- 
quished them by a shower of blood. 



85 

iilemy IV. who had valued no greatness but that which was 
founded on virtue, because that only could be sound and durable ^ 
had encouraged the sentiments of honour, loyalty, and frankness 
among his nobles, with a view of communicating those qualities 
through them to the body of the nation; but Richelieu, whose 
plans were not of a liberal, but of an atrocious character, endea- 
voured to destroy virtue by converting honest men into courtiers. 
In order to weaken the influence of the nobles in the provinces, 
and destroy their popularity, he obliged them to live in Paris, 
where, unoccupied by the exercise of political functions, or the 
interests of their tenantry, they had nothing to do but to copy 
his magnificencci, and to idle away their lives in the refinements 
of luxury, and the giddy amusements of the court. Richelieu 
intended, by thus breaking down the aris-tocracy, to simplify 
the machine of government, — to give a more vigorous and rapid 
action to its parts, and to cause the whole to perform its evolu- 
tions for the advantage only of the crown. His system of policy, 
which went to invigorate the head at the expense of all the other 
members of the body politic, created that fatal ascendency of 
Paris over France — that trembling submission of a whole king- 
dom to the frantic caprices of a single city, which caused her 
to exhibit so strange a political phenomenon in all the phases 
of her late revolution. 

Happily, however, for France, the tyranny of this minister, 
(under whom offences were not judged on the principles of writ- 
ten law, but after the dictates of arbitrary caprice,) did not last 
long enough to extirpate all the seeds of virtue and indepen- 
dence out of the French character. There were enough left to 
produce a rich growth in the beginning of the reign of l.ouis XIV, 
and to have yielded an abundant harvest in the close of it, if he 
too had not ignobly expended all his powers in advancing the 
same system of injustice and oppression. 

At the death of Richelieu and Louis XIII. which happened 
before the middle of the seventeenth century, France was begin- 
ning to gather some of the fruits of the wise administration of 
Sully. The general condition of society was improved by the 
encouragement he had given to industry and by his reduction of 
taxes; whilst his institutions of education had cherished the 
abilities of such men as Corneille and Descartes, who came like 

12 



86 

the rosy steeds of Apollo to usher in the glorious morning of 
science. A darkness, however, as profound as that which pre- 
vailed when the parliament of Paris forbade, under pain of death, 
the teaching of any doctrine contrary to that of Aristotle, was 
not to be dissipated in a moment; — ^nor could a nation whose 
prejudices condemned the marechal D'Ancre to the flames for 
conjuration, and the curate of Laudou for bewitching a convent 
of nuns, (not to speak of larger enormities) lay any strong claim 
to a general rectitude of moral sentiment. Richelieu, it is true, 
is the model of a great minister in the eyes of the advocates of 
modern legitimacy, but the reign of Louis XIII. is not their dar- 
ling period of French history, and therefore we may dispense 
Avith the nauseous drudgery of recalling its immoralities in order 
to prove that France was not then more moral than she is at pre- 
sent. An attentive consideration of those of the prouder and 
more conspicuous reign that followed may be full of instruction; 
and though the contemplation of the dark side of human nature 
is an occupation that I do not love, it may, like the study of 
anatomy, be justified by the good that may grow out of it. 



LETTER 11. 

Paris^ Feb, 5th, 1 820. 
My Dear Sir, 

There are but few periods in the history of mankind that 
open themselves with more imposing grandeur on the imagination 
than the reign of Louis XIV. and not one perhaps better calcu- 
lated to delude the opinions of superficial observers. The spec- 
tacle of a monarch, endowed by nature with the charms of an 
elegant figure and some of the powers of a subduing mind, natu- 
rally carries in itself something imposing along with it. But 
when in addition to these adventitious advantages we recollect 
that Louis was called by the accidents of birth at an early age to 
reign over a large and compact territory, inhabited by a brave 
and loyal people, pushed up in the scale of civilization by the 
energy of new institutions; when we remember the brilliancy of 
his court, the fame of his victories in the field, and of his con- 
quests in the drawing room, we may easily imagine that such a 
prince should give the utmost illusion to the splendour of absolute 
power, and become the admiration of those who contemplate 
government more as a thing of show than of use. Hence, among 
violent royalists the reign of Louis XIV. is considered the nc~ 
plus ultra of every thing that is excellent in government. \^ ith- 
out treating those gentlemen however with the harshness of the 
author of the Essay on Despotism, who declares '*que tout fau- 
teur du despotisme est un Itiche que la terreur ou Pinteret con- 
duisent," let us test the truth of their opinions by inquiring into 
what that government was in reality as well as in appearance. 
We may thus discover whether he found the materials of a bril- 
liant empire prepared at his hands or created them — and whether 
the men of genius who flourished in the course of the seventy- 
three years that he swayed the sceptre of France owed their ex- 
istence, as his flatterers pretend, to the vivifying rays of royal 



88 

livour, or were treated by him during their lives with indignity 
and neglect. 

I thmk the reign of Louis XIY. may be aptly divided into 
three parts— the tirst to embrace that period of near twenty years 
when cunning, confusion, and roguery prevailed under Maza- 
rine—the second, a rather longer term of triumphant prosperity, 
under the wiser administration of Colbert — and the third, the last 
thirty years of iniquity and ruinous expedients under Louvois, 
and his atrocious successors. There is something indeed so 
melancholy in the spectacle of human infirmity, which this last 
period exhibits, that it disposes one to exclaim in the language of 
the sweetest poet that adorned it, 

'^IJeuieux sij'avois puravir a la meraoire, 

Cetle ji,(iigue moftie d'une si belle histoire," PhepRE. 

Mazarine trod directly in the steps of Richelieu, and though less 
serviceable to his king, was not less cruel to his country. He did 
not happen to unite to his acuteness and cunning the domineering 
talents of his predecessor, and therefore in spite of his arbitrary 
power and dexterity in intrigue, he threw France into the most 
ridiculous of all civil broils, that of the Fronde, in which the no- 
bles while boasting of their allegiance to their king levied war on 
his minister. In truth Richelieu had so imbued the public mind 
"with terror and accustomed it to servitude that it was quite inca- 
pable of receiving an impulse from any enlarged or independent 
scheme of ambition. One is almost tempted to imagine, there- 
fore, that this war was got up like a tilt or tournament in pre- 
ceding ages for the pleasure of military excitement — for the sake 
of chattering and having something to do; and yet its ludicrous 
character did not prevent its being a great calamity to France. 
It served only to heighten the aversion of the young king from all 
popular privileges, to teach the nation to confound civil liberty 
with civil dissention, and to regard therefore the strengthening 
of the royal prerogative as the best security of its rights. It is, 
as well as I remember, in speaking of the havoc and inroads it 
made or continued on the welfare of society that Voltaire observ- 
ed, that with the exception of the ten beautiful years of the hero of 
France, he did not believe "que depuis Francois Il.jusqu'a I'ex- 
tinctionde la Fronde en France, il y ait un seuljour sans meur- 
tre,"* I do not know that we have a right to censure a minister 

* \ol.XX. p. 128. 



S9 

for not rising in wisdom above the age in which he lived, yet I 
think it may be fairly said of Colbert, that his fame, '4ike bright 
metal on a sullen ground has pleased more eyes and shown more 
goodly" from having had the vices and ignorance of his succes- 
sors as foils to set it oif. Since the web of political economy 
however, has been unravelled, if his policy has been censured 
with the bitterest vituperation by some, it has also received every 
variety of praise from the stately eiilogiums of Neckar to the fiery 
applause of Voltaire. 

Prior to the administration of Colbert the manufactures of 
France were so rude, that whatever was elegant was impor- 
ted from abroad. Under his care, the cloth manufactures of 
Louviers and Sedan, and those of silk at Lyons, Nismes, and 
Tours, grew up to prosperity, whilst the zeal of his enterprise 
covered the ocean with the ships of France and enabled her navy 
to threaten the safety of Europe. Agriculture too flourished be- 
yond what it had done at any former period, notwithstanding 
that absurd prohibition of the exportation of grain, which from a 
timid apprehension of the thoughtlessness of French impetuosity 
was continued in force until 1764. He lightened the burthens 
of taxation and yet nearly trebled the national income, carrying 
it from thirty-two to ninety-two millions of livres in the course 
of his administration. His good schemes it is true were much 
thwarted by the passions of the monarch, the prejudices of the 
people, and the baseness of courtiers. But under the vigour of 
his hand, Turenne and Conde marched with victory perched on 
the banner of the lily — Vauban sat smiling at the impotent 
thunder of an hundred pieces of artillery — Perrault and Mansard 
struck the earth with the mace of genius and magnificent pa- 
laces arose, whilst Le Brun animated their walls by the magic of 
his pencil, and Le Notre decorated their gardens with the en- 
chantments of Elysium. 

Had the successors of Colbert gone on in the track lie opened, 
Fi-ance must have attained before this time an unequalled height 
of prosperity; but his sudden amelioration of every thing not 
only elated beyond the bounds of reason the national vanity of a 
people like this, fond of superiority and prone to shew it, but led 
them into the presumptuous conclusion, that they had attained 
perfection in all the arts. Hence originated as we shall hereaf- 



90 

ter see, if not the crampino; system of Jurandes, at least those 
laws which by condemning every thing to be made, as it had hi- 
therto been made, prohibited both the improvements of taste and 
the inventions of genius. I am therefore inclined to think that 
those who have most praised this minister have done an act of 
justice to his memory, and that those who have censured him 
have tended to enlighten their country by teaching her to break 
loose from the bonds of his authority. Yet so few ministers have 
done as much to civilize the world and to subdue the human heart 
to the empire of reason by the charms of literature, that he not 
only merits (in the language of M. Neckar) "les benedictions de 
son pays, et les applaudissemens de Punivers" but the more fan- 
ciful compliment of the poet, 

"Colbert c'est sur tes pas que I'heureuse abondance, 
Fille de tes travaux vient enrichir la France."— Henriape. 

Two principles predominated in the soul of Lewis XIV ambi- 
tion and the love of pomp; and as neither of these could be gra- 
tified without money, he retained Colbert in service, not from af- 
fection but because he could not do without him A king who 
steps from the cradle to the throne can have no knowledge of hu- 
man nature, and would be entitled to indulgence for the follies of 
his youth if his vices did not increase with age. How far this 
was the case with Louis XIV. and how far his vices go to prove 
the fundamental unfitness of arbitrary government for the pro- 
motion of human happiness, it may not be useless to inquire. 

At the time Louis XIV. ascended the throne, education had 
already done much to enlighten the higher orders of society; 
but you should perpetually keep in mind, that under the old re-' 
gime, this class was as distinct from the body of the nation, as 
if heaven had separated them by difference of complexion. The 
progress of refinement on the higher classes of society, is no 
doubt much advanced by men of letters, and the fine inspira- 
tions of Corneille and Racine, did as much, I am willing to be- 
lieve, to elevate the tone of moral sentiment and patriotism in 
France, as the spirited wit of Moliere, and the pungent satire of 
Boileau did, to refine the taste of the well educated, or to ridi- 
cule into disrepute the prejudices and vulgarities of coarser ages. 
The spirit of philosophical enquiry too, began about that time to 
push its researches wdth some boldness, and to give a more 



91 

serious cast to the fluctuating principles of morality. The eccle- 
siastical government had, since the edict of Nantz, ceased to be 
an absolute despotism; the translation of the Scriptures had 
opened a wider i&eld for the meditations of the religious, and the 
inseparable connexion which should subsist between religion and 
morality, was beginning to be sensibly felt and generally ac- 
knowledged When the doctrines of Calvin began to circulate 
in France, the ministers of the established church but seldom 
delivered sermons to their congregations,* because a system 
commanded by law, and fortified by custom, required not the 
sanction of the understanding to preserve its dominion. But a 
tolerated difference of opinion soon awakened inquiry, and it 
then became necessary, in order to check the progress of Cal- 
vinism, to address the reason of their followers. The clergy, 
who when their authority was unquestioned, had been disposed 
to regard with indulgence the errors of their flocks, because it 
threw a veil over, the scandal of their own lives, now found 
themselves watched with such vigilance, that they were obliged 
to reform their own habits. The vehement emulation and colli- 
sion of religious zeal which this opposition of sects produced, 
Struck out during the reign of Louis XIV. the brightest sparkles 
of eloquence that adorn the annals of the Gallic church; nor 
should it be forgotten, that all its great luminaries were reared be- 
fore the repeal of the edict of Nantz. Among those who appeared 
afterwards, we may look in vain for the splendid flame of fana- 
ticism which glows in the discourses of Bossuet; for the majestic 
step of reasoning eloquence that dignifies those of Bourdaloue; 
for the flood of rich imaginations that overflows in the works of 
Massillon, or that stream of lovely morality which meanders so 
beautifully through the pages of Fenelon. No, this class of ora- 
tors disappeared with the controversy which produced them, and 
the shroud of ignorance once more extended itself over the bier 
of pulpit eloquence. Toleration lasted long enough to blight 
many of the branches of the tree of depravity in France, and if 
it had not been interrupted by Louis XIV. it might have so 
blasted the root as to have prevented those sturdy shoots which 
afterwards acquired vigour enough to support a scaffold for his 
posterity. 

* Histoire des Guetres ctviles, v. 1st. p. 237. 



m 

We are told by Voltaire* that the French were yet so savage 
when Louis XIV. ascended the throne, that in the twenty years 
which preceded that event, (although ten years of war,) more 
Frenchmen perished by the hands of their friends in single com- 
bat, than by the sword of the enemy. One of the happiest effects 
of the refinement of Louis's court was the introduction of a pre- 
ference of decent society, above that vulgar spirit of tavern li- 
centiousness which so brutalizes the habits of a gentleman. But 
Louis w^as a man of show, not of reality. In the dissipations of 
his court, he forgot the misery of his people, and showed no 
higher ambition in the exercise of his splendid authority, than 
that of breaking down the independent spirit of his nobles, and 
teaching them to bear with servility the despotical dogmas of his 
inordinate vanity. That the impertinent scorn of the rights of 
mankind, which induced him to ask them, what is the govern- 
ment, "c'estmoi," should be admired, is not so remarkable, 
as that he should be applauded as the patron of genius. HE, 
the patron of genius, who treated the two greatest captains in 
his service with jealousy and envious neglect; who perpetually 
impeded Turenne in his career of glory, and who, by forcing 
Conde into retirement, induced him to close in obscurity a life 
which, under more favorable auspices, might have added new 
lustre to the renown of France? He, the patron of genius, who 
drove Fenelon into exile for writing Telemachus, and who caus- 
ed Racine to die of chagrin, for having suggested to him the 
misery of his subjects, and a remedy for their griefs? He, the 
patron of genius, who, as Madame de Stael says, '^'persecuted 
Port Royal, of which Pascal was the chief;" who suffered La 
Bruyere to expire in obscurity; who opposed, with unrelenting 
obstinacy, the rendering of any honor to La Fontaine, and who 
never showed a preference for any poet except Boileau, by whom 
he was anointed with the slime of flattery? For my part, I 
think him just as much entitled to the praise of being a wise 
and just governor. He, who from the bosom of a court, in 
which the genius of elegant voluptuousness spread the banquet, 
and the graces presided, could send forth the bloody edicts of 
persecution, and give the word of command for the hunt of the 
Huguenots? He, who suffered an infamous minister to involve 

* Sieele de Louis XIV. 



93 

him in war to prevent him from criticising the windows of the 
Trianon, and who signed an order to lay waste, with fire and 
sword, the beautiliil country of the Palatinate, in order to 
heighten the terror of his name, and animate the flagging con- 
versation of his court? There is not in all the code of the re- 
volutionary convention, an act of more cold-blooded cruelty than 
that. Indeed it is scarcely possible, even at this time, af er the 
lapse of so many years, and the restoration of the unfortunate 
country which was entirely devastated in the depth of winter, 
to read the cruel mandate, which delivered up so many towns, 
and villages, and chateaux, and cottages, to the flames, and the 
very tombs themselves to be torn open by the rapacity of the 
soldiers, without feeling one's blood run cold with horror? It 
should be ^^ken into consideration too, that at the moment he 
thus spurned the obligations of humanity and honor, in commit- 
ting this atrocious crime, (1688,) he had enjoyed an uninter- 
rupted course of prosperity from the beginning of his reign; that 
he was superior to all his enemies united, and the terror of Eu- 
rope. It was then, that after having driven near half a million 
of Protestants from his kingdom, by the revocation of the Edict 
of Nantes, (1685,) having suffered the members of that sect to 
be hunted down like wild beasts in a forest, and delivered to tor- 
ture before they were consigned to the flames; having confis- 
cated their property for the good of those who denounced them; 
having declared their children illegitimate, and torn them from 
their families to be educated in another faith, or hurried to the 
gallies; it was then, in fine, that his painters and his poets were 
ordered to Versailles, to represent him as the sun irradiating 
the globe; or, as we may yet behold him on the walls of diat 
palace, as a sort of beautiful Vulcan, forging chains for the cities 
he ordered to be besieged; or leaping over the Rhine in the cha- 
racter of the God of War, with the lightning of Jupiter in his 
hand, and the laurels of Apollo on his brow. 

It is from this epoch, however, that the decline of the relative 
power of the French monarchy takes its date; that the govern- 
ment became impoverished at home by the loss of its artizans, 
and disgraced abroad by the defeat of its armies. The distresses 
of the treasury, from the scandalous prodigality of the court, be- 
came so pressing, in ten years after the repeal of the toleration 



94 

act,* that 1200 dollars might purchase admittance into the ranks 
of nobility. The number of those tickets of exemption from 
taxation was so terribly augmented too about that time, that it 
gave rise to the pleasant sarcasm of '*what a pity father Adam 
did not think to buy a title — we should have been all noble." 

Even Voltaire, after remarking that war renders the conquer- 
or in a few years as miserable as the vanquished, fixes on the 
close of 1688, as the era at which Louis XIV. touched the 
highest point of his greatness. It is certainly true, that France 
continued to rise in the scale of European nations as long as she 
enjoyed religious toleration, and that she began visibly to lose 
her elevation from the moment she was deprived of it. I know 
not whether this coincidence of circumstances ever struck the 
imagination of Voltaire; if it did, I believe he s^^^p'^essed it, 
because it could not heighten the colouring of his picture, nor 
flatter the national vanity of the people, on whose pleasure the 
reputation of his work was to depend. Yet, in pointing out the 
fatal consequences of the spirit of persecution on the prosperity 
of France, he remarks, that by a sort of singular fatality at the 
very moment the court was becoming polished to excess, the 
WTath of intolerance rendered it more familiar with the hideous 
practice of empoisoning than at any previous epoch of its his- 
tory. The world is perhaps indebted to Madame de Stael for 
the first true sketch of the character of this hero of the toilette 
— this grand performer in what Boileau calls "les nobles dou- 
ceurs d'un sejour plein de charmes." In commenting on his 
coming with a whip in his hand to the parliament of Paris, to 
forbid them the exercise of the last remnant of their power, (the 
right of remonstrance,) I think she observes that he could never 
conceive the idea of a nation, nor imagine any property to exist 
in France which did not belong to him, nor entertain a respect 
for any thing but himself. 

The magnificent buildings erected during his reign, have been 
imagined by some to be the monuments of his greatness, yet I 
confess I cannot see how the wasting the treasures tyrannically 
wrested from his people, on works of mere ostentation, can re- 
dound to the credit of a voluptuous despot. Voltaire himself, 
in tlie heat of panegyric, admits, that if he had expended one 

* 1696. 



95 

fifth of the money on Paris, which was wasted in erectin* hills, 
and making rivers at Versailles, that he might have rendered 
every part of the capital as magnificent as the neighbourhood of 
the Tuilleries, and the whole more superb than any thing of the 
kind on oarth. Now, when we remember that the situation of 
Versailles is in itself mean and detestable, and was selected only 
because it was not within view of the steeple of St. Denis, which 
covers the tomb of the Bourbons — when we recal the enchantino- 
beauties of the scenery that nature has so gracefully scattered 
along the banks of the Seine, from tlie lovely heights of Meudon, 
to the more tranquil terrace of St. Germains, and when we re- 
collect also that the embellishments of Versailles mio-ht have 
adorned any of these hills at one tenth of the expense; I ask what 
indulgence is the monarch entitled to who thus w^astes the re- 
sources of his people? 

I have entered much more widely into the merits of this hon 
viettx temps as it is considered of France than I had intended, 
and have no other apology for having done so than the conviction 
that the flood of moral evil by which France has been recently 
deluged, had the channels of inundation opened for it by the 
follies of the reign of Louis XIV. Like Augustus, my dear Sir, 
he owes his reputation to the happy accident which called him to 
reign over a people replete with genius, wdiose immortal produc- 
tions have enchanted the public mind, and dropt a curtain over 
the crimes and infirmities of the monarch. 

But may it not serve to rectify the judoments of those who 
think that the system of morals was pure in France before it was 
deranged by the disorders of the revolution, to remind them that 
it is admitted by the historians of this period that the spirit of 
cruelty and savage thirst of blood among the French people was 
so far from being glutted by the war of the Cevennes, that it was 
not even slacked by the dragonnade. of the protestants. Yet 
since the people are next to nothing in the eyes of these philan- 
thropic professors of the doctrine of legitimacy^ let us enquire a 
little into the spirit of loyalty and chivalrous devotion to their 
idol, which this new and splendid despotism had infused into 
their own ranks. The last scene of the life of Louis XIV. is an 
apt illustration of the disinterestedness of their loyalty. We are 
told by historians that from the very moment the physician pro- 



96 

liounced that his majesty could not survive the following Wed- 
nesday, the palace of Versailles was so completely deserted by 
the flock of titled courtiers, that his bed was left to be guarded 
by a few hired domestics! But at the moment of this entire aban- 
donment a quack arrived from Provence with a remedy which it 
was pretended was infallible for the gangrene. The scene was 
now changed — Versailles, which a few hours before was all si^ 
lence and solitude, became of a sudden all bustle and confusion. 
The nobles who had fallen oflf with such precipitancy from the 
dying monarch, now rushed back with such impatient eagerness 
to felicitate him on his probable restoration that the Duke of Or- 
leans observed ''if the kin^ eats a second time there will be no- 
body left in our palace." But fate had fixed it otherwise— his 
doom was inevitable — ^he disease was past remedy, and now 
the loyal gang of ultras, (leaving the eyes of the king to be closed 
by mercenary hands) were seen flying back again with increased 
vivacity "to sell themselves as fast as possible to the Due D'Or- 
leans." Such was the honest zeal and magnanimous loyalty 
which rewarded the last hours of this splendid despot — such the 
change from rough independence to polished servility which six, 
ty years of arbitrary government had eftected, and such the 
fidelity of the times which the whining sycophants of power are 
perpetually obtruding on us as the golden age of France and the 
millenium of monarchy! Louis lived long enough to perceive the 
fluctuations of the current, and to lament the errors of his reign. 
In his last moments he is said, to have exclaimed in the bitterness 
of humiliated pride, I am tired of life "je ne desire ni espere la 
conserver." 

The reign of Louis XIV. as I hav^ suggested before, bears a 
strong resemblance to that of Augustus, except that the latter 
be^an in troubles, and ended in the tranquillity of permanent 
gcxsd fortune, whilst the first half of the former was spent in a 
blaze of prosperity, and the last under the cloud of adversity.-— 
Both, however, commenced after a long period of domestic dis- 
cord and civil war; both had their years of massacre and pro- 
scription; both were conducted with splendour, and ennobled by 
talents, nursed, if not created, by the liberal spirit of institu- 
tions to which the agitations of preceding times had given rise; 
both broke down independence ot mind and fidelity of heart 



97 

among the nobles, and conducted the nation to a state of ser- 
vility and corruption. In the century which followed these 
reigns over Rome and France, each suffered the extremes of 
despotism and anarchy; each was trampled on by a set of the 
bloodiest monsters that heaven ever sent forth in its wrath to 
scourge mankind; and if the spirit of liberty was not in France as 
it was in Rome, smothered in the stagnant pool of despotism, it 
is to the redeeming intelligence of the times, diffused by the 
art of printing, that she owes its preservation. ♦ 

Anne, of Austria, it is said, advised her son to imitate his 
grandfather in preference to his father, because at the death of 
Henry IV. the people wept, and at that of Louis XIII. they 
laughed. He pursued a very different course of policy from 
either, and the day of his death was a day of rejoicing and glad- 
ness, in which his subjects sang songs of joy in the streets, in- 
sulting his memory, and loading it with obloquy. Henry IV. 
entered Paris by force and stratagem, amid the imprecations of 
swinish bigots, who would have rent the air with shouts at his 
immolation; but he exercised his power with such wisdom and 
benevolence, that for several days after his death Paris exhibited 
such a scene of lamentation, that, we are assured by historians, 
the excess of grief produced the same effect as a contagious dis- 
ease. Louis XIV. quietly ascended the throne of his ancestors to 
govern a brave nobility, and a people devoted to his interest and 
ready to die in his defence; he exercised power however with 
such a contemptuous disdain of the rights of his subjects, that 
his death was not only followed by a scene of dissolute gayety 
and intemperance, but his remains were hissed and hooted at on 
their way to St. Denis. ThilLebullition of joy was, if possible, 
increased a few days after, when by orders from the Regent, the 
dungeons of Vincennes and the Bastile were unlocked, and the 
numberless martyrs that he had incarcerated for theoloo-ical enio-- 
mas, came forth with pallid countenances and emaciated forms, 
to excite the compassion of the multitude. 

Louis XIV. after fifty-six years of war, left the finances of France 
in so foundering a condition, that the embarrassments of the trea- 
sury under the regency, led to the proposition of national bank- 
ruptcy The deficiencies of the revenue for the current expenses of 
the year are said to have been seventy- seven millions of livres. 



98 

The machine of finance was never ^ able to disencumber itself 
from these difficulties till the revolution, when the mass of em- 
barrassments having so far accumulated as to clog its wheels, it 
ceased to revolve altogether. 

In speaking of the state of private morals at the close of this 
reign, Montesquieu observes, that men were not at all disapprov- 
ed of for suffering the infidelity of their wives — that husbands were 
in the habit of speaking verj little of them, for fear of mentioning 
them to those who knew them better than themselves—- and that 
there was but one character that all the world hated and laughed 
at — a jealous husband. He goes much farther on this subject 
than I choose to follow him, and after all due allowance for the 
exao-fferations of satire, I think it must be admitted that France 
was not then the Eden of domestic bliss. Yet Ultra Royalists 
assert, that Louis XIV. was the most successful monarch in 
curbino- the extravagancies of disorderly opinions — the most ex- 
emplary in the exercise of his religious duties — the most splen- 
did wearer of majesty-— and the most indefatigable in spreading 
civilization, that ever sat on the French throne! It might be 
asked in vain of them, was it the spirit of true religion that de- 
livered up his conscience to the Jesuitical doctrine of the end 
sanctifying the means, when, with fire and sword, he chased the 
Huguenots out of his kingdom? Was it a christian zeal to gov- 
ern France after the dictates of justice and sow the seeds of hon- 
our in his nation, that led him to impoverish it by guilty wars, 
and to throw the whole patronage of the crown into the hands of 
his mistresses? All this they contend proves nothing, since France 
acquired a pre-eminence in Europe under his direction. They 
will not admit, that one man may have had the gathering of the 
harvest, and another the ploughing and sowing of the glebe; or that 
the wisdom of every scheme of administration ought to be judged 
of from its general, and not from its partial results. For my part 
I cannot help thinking, that the ball of empire had already ac- 
quired its momentum when Louis XIV. mounted upon it, and that 
he deserves no more credit for the hand with which he steadied its 
course, than Phgeton for the presumptuous ignorance with which 
he misguided the chariot of the sun. If any doubt can remain 
on your mind of the correctness of this opinion, I would refer 
you, for coniirmation of it, to the funeral discourse of Massillon 



99 

on this monarch. In speaking of the pompous monuments of 
this extrava2;ant reign, that prelate asks, what will they recal 
to posterity but an entire age of horror and carnage, in which the 
flower of the French nobility were hurried to their tombs, to the 
despair of their parents and the extinction of their families — 
''nos campagnes desertes; nos villes desolees; nos peuples epui- 
ses, les arts a la fin sans emulation, le commerce languissant," 
and such a frightful dissolution of morality, as might be supposed 
to draw down the indignation of heaven on the French nation — 
Yet even this eloquent divine, after admitting, that by the policy 
of Louis no vestige of the modesty of their fathers was left in 
France, save their old and respectable portraits, which from the 
walls of their palaces, looked with reproach on their descen- 
dants; after railing at the profane writers who sold their pens 
to iniquity, and celebrated him for *^ 'remnant I'univers du sein 
des volupti's,"* does not, in his turn, omit to applaud the pious 
zeal and wisdom of that king in destroying the Huguenots, and 
even to declare that their extinction will redound "a la gloire 
eternelle de Louisl" 

* Henriade, 



LETTER III. 



Paris, Feb. 10th, 1820. 

My Dear Sir, 

We have now come, I think, to the beginning of a period, 
■which may be, in some degree, considered as the prelude of the 
revolution. It is here necessary to look somewhat attentively 
into the domestic habits of the court, which have of necessity 
much influence on those of the nation, and to observe, as we go 
along, the origin of that spirit of liberty which, however feeble 
and fluctuating at first, slowly expanded itself, until by gaining 
a crowd of proselytes too corrupt to comprehend its nature, it 
degenerated into the spirit of anarchy and faction. 

The splendid scene of government which had opened itself 
with such royal magnificence under Louis XIV. was followed by 
a reign of riot, debauchery and folly, under the regency of Or- 
leans. The tone of moral sentiment which Louis had found 
tolerably vigorous and well braced, had been gradually relaxing 
its tension during the thirty years which preceded his death 
(1685 to 1715.) But his respect for appearances had so checked 
the sallies of intemperance, that although religion had impercep- 
tibly dissolved her union with morality, it was not until after his 
death, that the pride of honesty was discovered to be entirely 
broken down and all pretension to principle to be as hypocritical 
as it was ridiculous. As soon, however, as this seeming respect 
for decency ceased to mask the vices of the court, they appeared 
in all their natural deformity. From the first days of the re- 
gency, libertinism not only ceased to seek concealment, but 
braved public opinion with such audacious grace as to render 
loose morals an indispensable accomplishment to a man of 
fashion. Blasphemy and oaths were introduced by the impu- 
dent, and applauded by the base; there was no joy in festivity 
without drunkenness, and no other object in society but the in- 



101 ^ 

dulgence of debauchery. We are told by a French historian 
that as **no one now blushed for any excess, no one was offen- 
ded by any reproach," and that all made a sport of the most 
violent excesses of iniquity and madness 

The passion of love, which had long since lost the elevation of a 
sentiment, became so profaned that gallantry was a mere cere- 
mony, less and less observed every day The ladies of the 
court made a sale and traffic even of that power of intercession 
in favour of the unfortunate, which when decently exercised, had 
been one of the loveliest of their privileges. Two young unmar- 
ried princesses, the daughters of Conde and Orleans, were at the 
same time the rival mistresses ''of that gallant gay Lothario," 
the young Due de Richelieu, and with the permission of their 
indulgent parents, continued their visits to him during his con- 
finement in the Bastile. The masked balls of the opera, which 
are at this day the resort of scarcely a woman of delicacy or 
rank, were then introduced to heighten the mysteries of licentious- 
ness, and to give the novices of either sex an easy initiation into 
the habits of the world. The suppers of the regent are said to have 
been mere midnight revels of debauchery. A company compos- 
ed of nobles and harlequins, princesses and opera dancers, held, 
(over the most delicious dishes and exquisite wines) conversations 
so frightfully obscene, that a respect for our nature almost makes 
me disdain the recollection of them. The past and present 
gallantries of the court and city, scandalous stories, disputes, 
pleasantries and ridicule, in which no body was spared, nor any 
thing in heaven above nor on the earth beneath was respected, were 
the topics which delighted these polished pupils of Louis XIV. 
*'0n buvait beaucoup du meilleur vin, on s'echauffait, on disait 
des ordures a gorge deployee, et des impieies a qui mieux 
mieux, et quand on avait fait du bruit, et qu'on etait bien ivre 
on s'allait coucher."* 

The many hideous suspicions which stain the history of France 
during that age are alone an evidence of its depravity. Not to 
mention the earlier disgusting obliquities of the young king, it is 
impossible to forget that the Regent could not sup with his own 

* Such is the statement of an eye witness, the Due de St. Simon. It was at one 
of these suppers that the Countess of Sabran said to the Regent, "Dieu aprcs avoir 
cr6e I'homme prit un teste de boue dont il fait l'arae,des Princes et des Laquais." 

14 



102 

daughters, nor Cardinal Tencin with his own sisters without ex- 
citing suspicions at which the human heart recoils. Neither 
could any member ot the royal family or distinguished person die 
without having their deaths attributed to poison. It may have 
been the malice of the multitude, or the vices of the great, which- 
ever vou please, that invented or executed these crimes, but the 
morality of that nation could not have been very pure in which 
such ideas could prevail. 

The courtv of justice ''la chambre ardente" which under the 
Medicis had been disgraced by fanaticism, was now dishonoured 
by venality, and as the public had no other revenge for injustice 
and injury than witty epigrams on the meanness and cupidity of 
their governors, they could scarcely be expected to retain much 
respect for them. When the mother of Orleans died, a wit wrote 
on her tomb ''ci-git I'oisivete" and added below ''la mere de tous 
les vices." 

It is an historical fact likewise that the tutor of Louis XV. the 
Abbe Dubois was constantly in the habit of representing virtue 
to his pupil as a chimera of weak heads, or as a lie invented by 
cunning impostors to delude the credulity of fools. What reason 
then is there to be surprised that this king should have governed 
a state without vigour and a church without virtue— that under 
his administration a respect for religion should have parted with 
the last anchors that held it .to the public mind of France — that 
it should have been since onjjhore by the storm of infidelity, and 
that every wave of royal intolerance should have only served to 
wash off some of the good people that clung to the wreck? When 
under the regency of Bourbon the reins of the French government 
were handed over to a titled courtezan (La Marquise de Prie) 
who united a hypocritical zeal for the forms of the established 
church, to an impious contempt of its tenets; when she was seen 
letting loose with even keener vengeance than Louis XIV. the 
blood hounds of religious persecution, can we wonder that the 
French people lost all respect for ceremonies which such a crea- 
ture commanded them to reverence? When by the orders of this 
seemingly religious lady the memory of those who died out of 
the church was blasted without the hope of redemption-— when 
pastors were condemned to death, and their flocks to confiscation 
ef goods for any suspected relapse into the practice of their 



103 

faith — when children were torn* from their parents to have their 
consciences trimmed by Jesuits, do you think that the glitteii no- 
rank of this high priestess of church government could hide from 
an enlightened community the cruelty of such measures, or in- 
spire them with respect for a system of government which invest- 
ed her with power? The extremes of opinion have been justly 
said to be nearer each other than the means, as the ends of a cord 
may be drawn around a circle till they meet. Thus in specula- 
tive matters a man is almost invariably in the wrong in propor- 
tion to the violence of his opinions, or his positiveness of being 
in the right. Reason and virtue occupy the centre, or middle 
ground. Hence a levelling Jacobin is easily converted into a 
despotist, and a religionist into an infideL The most vicious 
of monarchs, Louis XV. was a miserable bigot. Under him 
when a man was ill and refused the Roman sacrament and died, 
his goods were confiscated and his body dragged through the 
streets and thrown into a di^h— if he recovered, he was condemn- 
ed to confiscation of property ana perpetual labour at the gallies. 
Such intolerance disgusted the nation; for religion cannot be 
created by secular power — those only love it who embrace it from 
reason. Indeed from the revocation of the Edict of Nantes not 
only were manufactures and agriculture checked, but literature 
and the fine arts began to decline, and the church to relax the 
severity of its moral discipline. The great men who adorned the 
pulpit during the religious controversy successively disappeared 
without leaving a single character of resembling dignity to fill 
their places. The zeal of emulation among the clergy gradually 
sunk into the repose of indolence, and their chief solicitude du- 
ring the 18th century was for the conservation in both church 
and state of the prejudices of the feudal ages. In proportion as 
they fell off from their duties, religion declined into superstition 
or infidelity as it happened to light on a weak or a vicious mind, 
and long before the storm of the revolution broke on their heads, 
their dissolute habits and extortions had not only destroyed the 
proper respect for the clerical body, but led the nation to 
imagine a priest a hypocrite and a monk a glutton. No couplet 

* The sister of Dutens, and a thousand others. 



104 

from the stage was ever applauded more than this of (Edipe in 
1716. 

"Nos pretres ne sont pas ce qu'un vain peuple pense 
Notre crediilite fait toute leur science." 

But although literature had lost something of that purity of 
taste which characterized the writings of the preceding age, the 
multiplication of these had prodigiously diffused the superficial 
intelligence they contained. The art of printing had thrown 
open the doors of the temple of science to the whole nation, and 
though reading had not yet made the French profound thinkers 
on moral subjects, it gave an impulse to the public mind which 
sent it in pursuit of truth. Literature had not been as powerful 
a promoter of the prosperity of the nations of antiquity as it 
might have been, because they did not possess the means of dif- 
fusing it; and hence among the earlier authors of France none 
seem to have been aware that their writings might advance the 
happiness of mankind, or that the discoveries of philosophy might 
influence the fate of nations. 

Under the administration of Cardinal Dubois in particular 
a band of mercenary and depraved writers became the oracles of 
fashion and obscenity, and emptied out a stream of rancid pollu- 
tion in a style just suited to demoralize the half educated part of 
the nation. If the corrupt government of France did not pro- 
duce this state of things, how does it happen that England (a 
country not less advanced at that time before France in political 
and moral science, than she was in physical, by the preference 
of the Newtonian over the Carthesian system) how does it hap- 
pen that she too was not inundated by drains from this pool of 
corruption? To what are we to attribute her escape but to tole- 
ration, and to the free principles which time and patriotism had 
incorporated into her constitution.^ In the enjoyment of tolera- 
tion she had grown wise; for toleration acts on a nation as if God 
were to open 'Hhe windows of heaven and send the sun of righte- 
ousness with glorious apparition" to discover the abysses of his 
own wisdom. Had the same light shone on France at that time 
she too might have acquired liberty and become happy; for few 
governments have united greater wm^ssion to rouse resistance 
with less ability to conquer it, than J'rance after the explosion of 
the wild schemes of Mr. Law. Indeed I can never read such a 
fact as that stated by Boulainvilliers, that more than ten thousand 



105 

persecuted persons were destroyed by the flames, the wheel and 
the iTibbet under Louis XIV. without a feeling of surprise at the 
patience and good humour with which this nation submitted to be 
thus outraged. The spirit of liberty, however, which had never 
been a very active principle in France had at that time from the 
long prevalence of arbitrary power, lost nearly all the spring 
which once animated it. Wealth and knowledge were not yet 
sufficiently diffused among the middling and lower classes of so- 
ciety to give buoyancy to this sentiment; and among nobles, en- 
riched by exclusive privileges, inured to habits of submission, 
and then falling into decay, it shewed no symptom of life. 

But although the spirit of liberty had been covered up and 
seemingly extinguished under the mass of rubbish, which it had 
suited the purposes of petty tyrants and splendid despots to 
throw upon it, there is something so immortal in its nature, that 
it can never be extinct in a nation in which the human mind is 
cul^vated. Thus, in France, at the era to which I allude, it 
found an asylum in the hearts and heads of a few honest men, 
who gradually imparted it to others. The government severely 
prohibited any strictures on itself, but suffered the translation of 
works hostile to the doctrine of divine right, and passive obe- 
dience. The casual reflections of its own authors of the pre- 
ceding age too, may have slightly touched the spring of moral 
and political inquiry; but it was the English philosophers and 
statesmen, (Mr. Locke and his pupils) who struck, like Moses, 
the rock of ignorance, and opened the fountains of wisdom. 
Those who perceived the beginning of this stream, were proba- 
bly as little aware of the fulness it was one day to acquire, as 
the persons who view the sources of the Nile are from imagin- 
ing that it may gather water enough in its course, first to inun- 
date, and afterwards to fertilize the plains of Egypt. 

If France had possessed a free press, bad writers would never 
have found encouragement to pervert her moral sentiments. 
The permission to publish any thing soon ceases to be an evil 
in a community that is tolerably honest and free, for that which 
nobody buys, it is nobody's interest to publish. In this country, 
during the reign of Louis XV. the burning of a book by the hands 
of a common hangman, only heightened its reputation, by 
leading the public to think the Court had not sense enough to 



106 

answer it. Hence, it was observed, by one of the mischievous 
wits of that reign, (I think Voltaire,) on hearing that one of liis 
books had been condemned, ''so much the better: books are like 
Lyon's chesnuts, the more you toast them, the better they are." 
The diffusion of education and knowledge was working a 
change in the French nation throughout the last century. In 
Great Britain, the political powers of the nobility gave them 
personal independence and dignity, whilst their frequent inter- 
marriage with the commons blended them with the nation. But in 
France, the noblesse seem to have fancied themselves another 
race from the people, and could never render great enough the 
distance which separated them from the bourgoisie. This arro- 
gance might have been supportable when learning was nearly con- 
fined to them, but it became intolerable after the diffusion of 
education and wealth had begun to level the arbitrary distinc- 
tions of society. The tree of aristocracy had grown to a majes- 
tic height in the preceding reign of Louis XIV. because it had 
cast root in a soil enriched by letters; but that very soil which 
thus enabled it to carry its branches high, and to extend them 
-wide, had now vegetated other scions, and pushed them forward 
so fast, that they soon united the elevation of age to the vigour 
of youth. The natural consequence of this was, that the old 
tree should become less useful, and should soon cease to be 
either cherished for its shade, or venerated for its antiquity. 
Aristocracy was no doubt, in ancient times, a great benefit to 
free states, because the cultivation of the mind of a part, at 
least, of a nation, is essential to its prosperity, and because the 
means of acquiring knowledge were then too costly to admit of 
its general diffusion. But, in consequence of this restraint on 
education, the greatness or the decay of the free states of anti- 
quity, was dependent on the virtue or the corruption of one class 
of men. Luxury was therefore fatal to them; and hence, preci- 
pitate thinkers are in the habit of concluding that a taste for the 
fine arts leads to the decline of a state. But there is no idea 
more erroneous in its application to modern nations; for the dis- 
covery of the art of printing, has created in these a capacity of 
self-regeneration, which prevents them from being enervated 
by the luxury of their nobles, and which, in fact, has done away 
with the chief use of aristocracy. 



107 

Under Cardinal Fleury, who, in every thing except cupidity, 
possessed the morality of a courtier, and who lived in a society 
odiously dissolute, without either encouraging or condemning its 
practices, France enjoyed a repose dangerous to despotism. 
Educated people, when their curiosity is not taken up by the 
bustle of military operations, begin to think; and although Fleury 
had the address to pass oiF his elegant prattling for the trifling 
of a sage, he had not ability enough to turn the tide of opinion 
which was then beginning to run, with a steady current, against 
existing establishments. The restrictions on the press began 
to be very sensibly felt, and the censorship (which acted as a 
quarantine on every book, in order to spunge out of it every bold 
truth it might contain,) to be condemned. Authors fell into 
Milton's opinion, that to kill a man is to kill a reasoning 
creature; but to stifle a good book, is to kill reason itself; and 
Voltaire, whose writings exercised great influence over the age in 
which he lived did not hesitate to declare: *'Qu'il ne doit pasetre 
plus defendu d'ecrire que de parler; que telle est la loi D'Angle- 
terre, pays monarchique, mais ou les hommes sont plus libreqvPail' 
leurs parce quHls sont plus edaires,''^ When the Enc^'clopedia 
made its appearance, the reins of the French government were 
in the hands of the wanton De Pompadour, the accomplished 
daughter of a butcher. She sat on the box too, in a very com- 
manding attitude, cheering philosophy at one moment by a smile, 
and withering it at another by a reprimand — braving public opi- 
nion with the most unwinking effrontery, she conducted the cha- 
riot of state sometimes according to the calculations of her own 
interest, but much more frequently after the dictates of her 
caprice. Is it to be wondered at, then, that it encountered some 
dissolving jars as it went along; or that the French nation should 
not have seen with any patience the victorious legions of 
Britain planting at that time the standard of St. George on the 
ramparts of Quebec? The destinies of England, during this 
regency of Madame de Pompadour, had fallen into hands of as 
opposite a description, as if Providence had designed to contrast 
the institutions of the two rival nations. Though the king of 
England might not have been more highly gifted with talent tlian 
the king of France, the free spirit of his people had called into his 
council, men of the most gigantic talents. The * 'bright orb" of 



lOS 

Chatham's genius, was just then in the meridian of its sublime 
career, illuminating the parliament of Great Britain by its etful- 
genae, and leading on, like the pillar of fire in the desert, her 
arms to glory. For my part, I confess I was never surprised, 
that this noble nation should have been inspired with dissatisfac- 
tion by this humiliating contrast; nor that authors, who, like 
Voltaire, Diderot, and their coadjutors, wrote one day in their 
own apartments, and the next in the chambers of the Bastile or 
the dungeons of Vincennes, should have pushed their observa- 
tions far on the subject of tyranny, and even been willing to 
shoot, like flying Parthians, their arrows with a deadly aim at 
the institutions which pampered their oppressors. 

Despotism and the general diffusion of knowledge are incom- 
patible. The arches of a fabric, whose foundations are laid on 
ignorance and force, cannot maintain their stability after their 
hutments are undermined. The French writers were probably 
aware of this truth, and knowing that a revolution in things 
must follow a revolution in opinion, were glad to carry on their 
work in any way. The governors of Austria, Prussia, and 
Italy, have bow discovered it likewise, and therefore labour, 
with unwearied vigilance, to bar out every beam of light that 
approaches their frontiers. Their officers garrison every road 
to arrest the books and journals of foreign countries, and to 
rummage even the trunks of travellers; and, in some places, ex- 
ercise the right of domiciliary visits, to secure any stray volume 
that may have escaped the vigilance of the first scrutiny. 

For twenty years after the middle of the last century, the 
history of France is the mere repetition of puerile debauches 
and pusillanimous intrigues. Such was the beastly sensuality of 
the monarch, that he was incapable of giving any impulse to the 
nation, and the government became so weak, that it was called 
"'la bonne machine qui va toute seule." 

To rail at the government, deceive women, and ridicule reli- 
gion, now became the light and fashionable accomplishments of 
the day; for, as most men imitated, as far as they were able, the 
habits of the court, a general similitude of manners and vices 
began to prevail. The national vanity, or patriotism itself, fell 
so low, that the return of peace in 176. , although purchased at 
the price of honour, was celebrated by a public jubilee. Such a 



109 

vehement admiration of England had taken possession of the 
imaginations of some, that they were scarcely wounded by her 
success over their own country. All these circumstances ten- 
ded to loosen the machine of state, and if it still continued to 
revolve, it did so as the deer continues his course, even after he 
has received the ball of death. 

During the war which preceded that peace, the treasures of 
France had been lavished on Madame de Pompadour, instead of 
the army. She received for herself, en perpetuite, an annual in- 
come of a million and a half of livres; and found ample means of 
gratifying the avarice of her subordinate harpies, by ''acquits du 
comptant," or notes requiring nothing but the signature of the 
king to be paid. The French historians glide as smoothly as 
possible over this disgraceful period of their history, and yet 
state, that such was her wealth, that the sale of her furniture 
lasted for more than a year after her death. 

In reviewing the moral state of France under "Louis le Men aime^^ 
it is impossible to pass over in silence one enormity unparalleled in 
modern times. Posterity may be disposed to doubt, whether that 
monarch really presided at a council of physicians 'assembled to 
devise the means of torturing Damiens, and then requested not 
to know when the sentence was put in execution, lest it might 
aiFect his nerves; but alas! it cannot doubt the existence of the 
"Pare aux cerfs." This establishment is said to have been 
devised by Madame de Pompadour, who imagined that the 
best means of eluding the dangers of rivalship, would be, to 
create such a seraglio for the king as might so glut and debase 
his passions, as to prevent the possibility of his becoming attached 
to any one. Some elegant houses in the Park of Versailles were 
accordingly fitted up in the style of an eastern harem, and uni- 
ted by a subterraneous passage with the palace, for the accom- 
modation of his most christian majesty. Emissaries were 
scattered over the kingdom in search of beauty, and hundreds 
of young ladies, either sold by the parents, or violently torn 
from them, were hurried to that establishment, and soon after 
turned adrift, without the chance of ever beholding their de- 
stroyer again. "Corruption," says Lacretelle,* "entered into 
the most peaceful circles and obscure families; whole years were 

* Vol. iii. p. 171. 
15 



110 

employed to seduce persons under the age of puberty, and to 
combat in others the sentiment of shame and fidelity." The 
cost of this infamous establishment has been variously estimated 
by historians; some have carried it as high as two hundred mil- 
lions of dollars, and others have brought it as low as one hun- 
dred millions of livres, or twenty millions of dollars. 

But independent of the depravity of the morals of the court, 
the records of the tribunals go far to prove, that the administra- 
tion of justice was not immaculate, nor all the world very vir- 
tuous and wise in these good old times. What moral sense of 
justice could be possessed by such a people as those of Thou- 
louse, who lighted bon fires, and moved in solemn procession of 
thanksffivine;, to ornament the rack on which Galas was to suffer 
martyrdom; or to celebrate the anniversary of the day on which 
four thousand of their citizens had been once murdered, for a 
different interpretation of the sixth chapter of John? 

Can you think, that a nation, in which an old man, like Ga- 
las, of seventy; a father of the most exemplary character, with 
no other evidence against him but his religion and his virtue;* 
could be condemned to torture and death, because his maniac 
son had hanged himself, can bring forward any strong claim to 
the possession of a just criminal code, or even to much rectitude 
of conscience? Can you believe, that a capital city like this of 
Paris, in which a boy of seventeen (the Chevalier de la Barre,) 
was condemned to the ignominy of the wheel and the scaffold, 
because, in the language of the parliament that condemned him, 
he was '''suspected of having broken a crucifix"— -can you think, 
I ask, that such a city required the frenzy of the revolution to 
lift up the flood-gates of ferocious fanaticism, in order to deluge 
it with iniquity? I might go on multiplying examples; but as 
your own memory can supply them, I will only ask, whether 
you think a nation, in which outrages of this character were 
events of frequent occurrence, can deserve to have its vile sub- 
■ mission to an iniquitous government ennobled in the language of 
Mr. Burke, by the terms, -'proud submission, and dignified obe- 
dience;" or whether its moral sensibility is entitled to the praise 
of being so delicate as 'Ho have felt a stain as a wound?" It 

* See Voltaire's Histoiy of his Trial. 



Ill 

should be remembered, likewise, that Mr. Burke wrote those re- 
flections on the revolution before the frenzy of faction had en- 
tirely disgraced that enterprize, and that the bitterness of his 
nvectives, which exasperated the passions of the mob against 
the noblesse, may have served to bring on those sanguinary ex- 
cesses which he predicted, and afterwards so eloquently de- 
scribed. 



LETTER IV. 

Paris y Feb. 15th, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

The hints I have thrown together in the preceding letters, 
are sufficient, I apprehend, to show, that however much despo- 
tism may have done to soften and polish the manners of the 
French, it did not laj itself out at all to rectify their moral senti- 
ments, or to heighten their respect for virtue. Nor is this sur- 
prising when we recollect, that rectitude of principle and the 
diffusion of knowledge, are by no means essential to the pros- 
perity of a form of government, which relies principally for its 
splendour on the union of dishonesty with a sufficient degree of 
animal courage, not to allow any man to mention it. 

You may observe by the memoirs of the minority of Louis 
XIV. that although absolute incredulity in matters of religion 
had not spread itself much beyond the precincts of the court, yet 
there was no disposition any where shown in society to restrain 
the assaults of mere wit and ridicule. A narrow system of sel- 
fish philosophy had already gone far in turning into derision 
every generous sentiment or enthusiasm of our nature, except 
the admiration of genius. This preference of the brilliant ac- 
complishments of the mind over the integrity of the heart, and 
the useful qualities of the understanding, may be regarded as 
one of the most pernicious effects of false education and the re- 
finements of artificial society. No country has ever run into a 
greater extreme in this particular, or paid more dearly for its 
aberration than France. Here, when the system of debasing 
the dignity of our species by risible pleasantries, and of bottom- 
ing all human action on self interest, became united to an admi- 
ration^! brilliant levity of morals, the best regulated sensibili- 
ties fell into disrepute, and the possession of wit atoned for the 
absence of every virtue. It became the tashion to live for plea- 



113 

sure, not for happiness. Society divided mankind into two 
classes, the knaves and the fools, and not many men were wil- 
ling to be considered as belonging to the latter. For this cause 
morals became so relaxed, that domestic faith could not be relied 
on; and hence the attachments of the heart became a source of 
so much discord and uneasiness, that the moralists of that a2:e 
had some reason in attributing the chief enjoyments of life to 
paternal rather than to conjugal affection. In such a society the 
sentiment of love, so far from yielding an all -satisfying joy to 
the heart, was seldom or never felt in its true character. Even 
Marmontel, who paints to the life the fascinations of the literary 
society of Paris at that time, admits that he never knew the real 
sentiment of love till he was fifty -five years of age — ''jusquela 
le plaisir des sens avait ete le seul attrait qui m'eut conduit."* 

But it is scarcely necessary to multiply proofs of the agency of 
the court in corrupting the morals of the Parisians. From the 
time of Francis I. to that of Louis XIV the military art occu- 
pied almost entirely the lives of the great, and gave to their 
characters that dash of heroic energy which was so admirable in 
a Bayard, a Henry, or a Conde, But after the noblesse aban- 
doned their estates in the provinces, to come to reside in the 
capital, without becoming a branch of the government, they soon 
began to lose their mental as well as bodily activity. Being pos- 
sessed of little talent and too much pride to devote themselves to 
study or any liberal profession, they spent their lives in adjusting 
the fripperies of fashion — in the petty bustle of scandalous in- 
trigues, or in acquiring a knowledge of the anecdotes of the 
court. Hence, to prattle flippantly on trifles, became an accom^ 
plishment of much greater importance than the possession of real 
knowledge; and hence the French nobility which Louis XIV. 
found in the beginning of his reign prone to violent dissipation, 
settled down, during the course of it into a state of quiet cor- 
ruption. 

It was the policy of Louis XV. from an impression that the 
easiest of all arts was that of governing, to keep the mind of his 
successor Louis XVI. perfectly free both from the study of the 
theory of government, and the practice of its administration. 
The vicious education of the young prince however could never 

* Memoirs, Vol. iii. p. 179. 



114 

inspire him with a contempt of decency, nor subdue his respect 
for virtue. The natural moderation of his character was heighten- 
ed by a diffidence in his own abilities, and a little proneness to 
melancholy arising perhaps from a perception of the immoral 
condition of the people he was to govern; or of the profligate de- 
generacy of the monarch he was destined to succeed. Such in- 
deed was the old king's forgetfulness of propriety that the first 
evening after the marriage of the Dauphiness (the unfortunate 
Marie Antoinette,) he invited her to sup with him in the Chateau 
of Muette, and admitted the notorious Madame du Barry to the 
banquet. 

At the death of Louis XV. the French government seemed 
ready to expire from excess of debility. To his successor he left a 
corrupt court, a bankrupt treasury, and the djing embers of a burnt 
out religion. All classes of society vied with each other in expres- 
sions of contempt and dissatisfaction at the existing state of 
things. The nobles wanted political power; the high clergy de- 
sired an increase of influence; — the parliaments were not satis- 
fied with mere judicial powers, and the rest of the nation, its 
merchants, bankers, officers, freeholders, and authors, were all 
vexed to see talent governing England, whilst birth and favors 
ruled every thing in France. The desire of change was univer- 
sal — "all conversation and action," says Madame de Stael, "all 
virtue and passion, public spirit and fashion tended equally to 
the same end." 

The abolition alone of the order of Jesuits, by exposing the 
constitution by which that society had aimed at obtaining the 
government of the world, might, independent of any general 
propensity to scepticism in the nation at large, have shaken the 
foundations of the system of religion which then prevailed in 
France. Their mysterious creed which had been hitherto with- 
held even from the inspection of kings, was now handled with 
severity by philosophers and critics who in their rage were not 
very solicitous to screen other religious corporations from the 
shower of sarcastic virulence with which they were delighted to 
drench the Jesuits. 

Another cause of disorder in France, about twenty years 
before the revolution, was the disposition of courtiers to imitate 
the heedless extravagance of the king, to build fine houses, and 



115 

cover themselves with debt. Prodigality and ostentation every 
where prevailed, and new exactions on tiie tenantry followed of 
course. But the poverty of these, from bad husbandry, restrict- 
ed commerce, and much oppression made them unable to meet 
new demands. The removal of the restriction on the free trans- 
portation of grain from one province to another, and its expor- 
tation when it fell below a certain price, which did not take 
place till after the death of De Pompadour, gave, it is true, a 
little breath to the industry of France; but at that time, it was 
only in Alsace and Flanders, acquisitions of Louis XIV. that 
,the art of rendering the cultivation of the soil subservient to its 
amelioration, w^as at all understood.* The folly of the o-overn- 
ment in discouraging agriculture by injudicious restrictions, was 
seconded by the church, by the multiplication of holidays. There 
were no less than thirty Saints' days on which labour was sus- 
pended. Now, estimating the number of labouring persons in 
France at twelve millions, and the value of their work at only 
ten cents a day, the loss to the nation, in a year, would amount 
to thirty-six millions of dollars; and in the century which elaps- 
ed between the revocation of the edict of Nantz, and the revolu- 
tion, to a sum nearly equal to the present national debt of Great 
Britain. What heightened the evil was, a power vested in the 
curate of a parish, not only to enforce the observance of these 
holidays, but occasionally to increase their number; and as he 
was sometimes at law with his flock, he thus held a rod of chas- 
tisement in his hand, and could nearly command idleness at 
pleasure. In consequence of the number of these holidays, the 
necessities of the people often obliged them to work on Sundavs, 
and hence the little observance of the Sabbath in many parts of 
France. Independent of the pecuniary loss the nation sustained 
by those holidays, its morals were injured by idleness: for when 
the plough was stopped, dissipation flourished; when factories 
and shops were shut up, operas and theatres were open, and 
although it was a mortal sin to weave a yard of cloth, it was a 
venial pleasure to view scenes which reconciled the mind to sen- 
suality. Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that 
the rural economy of France was far inferior to that of England, 
Holland, or Switzerland; or that the gentlemen of France, who 

* bee Arthur Young. 



116 

travelled abroad during the period to which I allude, should have 
been suddenly seized with a passionate admiration of the sys- 
tems of those countries. 

There are a few other facts which I cannot refrain from men- 
tioning, since they will enable you to judge of the excellence of 
those good old times. The quantity of meat produced in France 
fifty years ago, was not, it is admitted by Voltaire, sufficient, if 
divided among tlie nation, to afford four pounds a piece a month, 
so that when the profusion of the rich was supplied, the lent of 
the peasant might well be said to last all the year. The use of 
eggs and milk was forbidden at the discretion of a bishop, who, 
in the enjoyment of a rich revenue, might wallow in luxury 
without disturbing himself by examining his diocese. '*Dans 
plusieurs de nos provinces," says Voltaire, ''il n'est pas permis de 
manger des ceufs; dans d'autres le fromage meme est defendu!" 

Before the administration of Turgot, meat was sold, during 
lent, only at the great hospital in Paris, which extorted, in con- 
sequence of the monopoly, a price that almost created a famine 
among the common people. In suggesting the injury which 
France sustained from the corrupt union of the tyrannies of 
church and state, I would by no means be understood to assert 
that this decay of morals was the necessary consequence of the 
prevalence of the Catholic religion. Look at this church as it 
exists in America, where unaided by the secular power, it is left 
to stand or fall by the doctrines it inculcates, and the virtues it 
practises. How benign is its spirit, and how amiable its disci- 
ples! Whence arises then the divorce between religion and mo- 
rality in Spain, Portugal, or Italy, and formerly in France? Is 
it not that liberty of conscience sweetens and purifies all the 
duties of life, and that intolerance blackens and corrupts them? 

The speculations of the economists,* who overthrew the re- 
strictive system of political economy in France about the end of 
the reign of Louis XV. originated a vague conception of liberty 
throughout the nation. The discovery that the active agency of 
government served in many cases rather to retard than to accel- 
erate the march of national industry, led to the doctrine of 
leaving things to themselves, which was soon after so ably ex- 
pounded by Adam Smith, and which still continues to do so 
* Gouniai, Du Quesney, Turgot, &c. 



117 

much service to the cause of liberty all over the world. The 
abolition of some of the restrictions of the old feudal tyranny, 
seemed to infuse new life and action into the languid pulse of 
France, and served also to turn into disrepute those empirical 
regulations of monopolies, prohibitions and concessions by which 
governments, in attempting to heighten the prosperity of nations, 
had actually aggravated their misfortunes. These discoveries 
necessarily loosened the foundations of the old feudal edifices. 
When men saw that agriculture, as well as commerce and ma- 
nufactures flourished best when individuals were left at liberty 
to pursue them at pleasure, they were inspired, of course, with 
a contempt for the restrictive system. Even the court began to 
conjecture that the best way of fortifying the throne, and avoid- 
ing that fear of change ''which perplexes monarchs," was to rid 
the government of the practice of perpetually intermeddling in 
private affairs. They seem never to have suspected that the 
doing away with most of the business of government might give 
to the office of their king the appearance of a sinecure, and that 
a wish to abolish it might grow out of a general impression of 
its inutility. 

Louis XVI. who was a man of most excellent dispositions soon 
manifested an inclination to restrain the licentiousness of his 
court. Without wishing to display the severity of a public cen- 
sor, he hoped to see the veil of decency thrown over the amours 
of the profligate, and passion once more restored to its union with 
sentiment. But luxury which had been brilliant and graceful un- 
der Louis XIV. had become gross and vulgar under his succes- 
sor. Those embers of virtue which education and the contao-ion 
of example could not extinguish, had become nearly quenched 
by showers of wit and ridicule. Yet although depravity was 
very general it was by no means universal. Persons of the 
soundest principles and most immaculate virtue no doubt abound- 
ed among this brilliant and delightful people; but to them the 
avenues of favour were of difficult access, and therefore they 
generally lived in a state of modest retirement. The king would 
have been glad to have selected his pilots from this class of his 
subjects, and it was, perhaps, a sentiment of modesty that guided 
him in the selection of his first minister. 

16 



118 

Monsieur tie Maurepas, who, now at near four score, fancied 
himself wise because he had been a minister at fifteen, was drawn 
from a retreat in which he had been sighing after the sumptuous 
indulgences of the court for forty years, and was placed at the 
head of the government. The facility with which Louis resign- 
ed himself to the guidance of this political antiquaiian and most 
frivolous of courtiers is to be deplored. An excess of vanity was 
Maurepas' predominant foible, and sometimes led him to do good 
as in the recal of the parliament of Paris directly from its exile, 
not because it had meritoriously opposed the abuses of the prece- 
ding reign, but because so popular an act would gratify his love 
of praise. Public opinion had likewise fixed on Turgot and Ma- 
lesherbes as the only men in the nation fit to remedy the disorders 
of the treasury and reform the administration of government. 
Though no statesman in France lagged farther behind on-the march 
of public intelligence, or was less aware of the discoveries which 
the pioneers had mside tlmn t\mt vieux enfant, yet from an amiable 
ambition to please, he resolved to introduce these two philosophers 
into the ministry. Their first propositions opened a beautiful per- 
spective to France. They proposed the abolition of all intolerance 
in matters of religion; of the lettres de Cachet^ the censorship of the 
press; of the Corvee, an odious and burthensome labour; and of 
the duties which restrained the free transportation of articles 
from one part of France to another. These regulations were so 
consonant with reason that they would probably have excited but 
little opposition, if they had not been accompanied by a propo- 
sition now become indispensibly requisite for the support of 
public credit, the abolition of the privilege which exempted the 
estates of the nobles and the clergy from taxation. Had those 
measures prevailed, the revolution in France might have been 
gradual and salutary. When a political reform is necessary in 
a state, those are the best friends of existing institutions, who 
wish to adopt it before the evil becomes too inveterate for ordi- 
nary remedies. A spirit of discontent created by actual and 
increasing grievances, can be quieted only by their removal. 
To repress the clamour it produces by mere force, is like stop- 
ping the leaks of a dammed up torrent among the Alps— it only 
serves to accumulate waters, and if, when they break loose, the 
mountains are torn asunder and the vallies ruined, to what but 



119 

the folly of heaping them up, are we to attribute the devasta- 
tion? 

As the demands of the treasury were now much greater than 
its resources, there was no choice left, but to tax the privileged 
orders, to curtail the expenditure, or to acquire new credit. 
The avarice of the nobles and clergy who governed the court, 
prevented the experiment of the two former, and the darkness 
in which the fiscal operations were involved rendered the last 
impossible. The king himself was somewhat inclined to favour 
a reformation; and had he been wise enough to perceive the ex- 
tent to which it should have been carried, and bold enough to 
discard the dread of innovation, he might perhaps have reigned 
happily, and been a blessing to his people. But he was of a 
different nature, and before the joy of the public, at the appoint- 
ment of Turgot and Malesherbes, was over, he roused its indig- 
nation by discarding them. Their plans of relief put the privi- 
leged orders in a rage, and the parliament of Paris, forgetting 
its old quarrels with them, concurred in their displeasure. The 
first outcry was raised against a trifling tax on the privileged 
classes for the repair of the highways, which, as internal trade 
had never been brisk in France, had hitherto served principally 
to facilitate the movements of armies, and the occasional jour- 
neys of the rich; for travelling is always rare in despotical states. 
Even at present a stranger is struck with the languid'circulation 
of the public, and the few equipages on the roads in France in 
comparison with England, or the northern states of America. I 
do not believe that in our journey to Italy last year we met be- 
tween Paris and Lyons, a distance of near three hundred miles, 
more than a dozen carriages travelling post — not one with pri- 
vate horses, nor perhaps one gentleman on horseback. 

The removal of Turgot caused the public to perceive, that its 
interest was in one scale, and that of the privileged orders in 
the other; but the appointment of Mr. Neck^tr, as director gene- 
ral of finance, somewhat allayed their discontent. Neck€r's 
understanding was extensive and just, but it was a little fetter- 
ed by habits of business, and liable to an indecision, which his 
accomplished daughter has so amiably attributed to the compre- 
hensiveness of his views. His system of finance was that of Col- 
bert, enlarged and liberalized; as that of Turgot was an im- 



120 

provement on the plans of Sullj. To great caution and discre- 
tion of temper, Neckfr united a scrupulous regard to the dic- 
tates of conscience, so that his whole conduct may be regarded 
as a compromise between the enlightened perceptions of his 
mind, and the dutiful restraints of his heart. He was a sort of 
mediator between the republican philosop^iers, and the friends 
of feudal bondage, and as such continued during five years the 
labours of a zealous patriot. In that time he repaired the sys- 
tem of finance, so that it might go on a few years without him, 
and he was, therefore, sacrificed in his turn, to the trifling 
vanity of old Maurepas. His genius infused some little vigour 
into the government during the American war; and this war, 
to which some have attributed the French revolution, probably 
retarded its explosion. For, whoever looks attentively into the 
history of France, will find, I think, that the peace of '63 had 
humiliated the superb vanity of this nation— that the ignomi- 
nious vices of Louis XV. had at his death nearly destroyed all 
reverence for the crown — that the moral bonds, which hold so- 
ciety together, were so chafed or worn, that they were ready 
to give way or fall to pieces on the first occasion — and that the 
prodigality which had beggared the treasury, had so increased 
the impositions, which galled the nation, that it continued to sub- 
mit more from the habit of obedience, than from any attachment 
to its government. 



LETTER V. 

Paris, Feb. 20th, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

I have endeavoured in my last letter to recal to your recol- 
lection that conduct of the court of France, by which, after fa- 
miliarizing the nation with the image of vice, it broke down those 
springs of opinion which had hitherto supported the government. 
Yet I cannot help thinking that if Louis XVI. (as he was seem- 
ingly disposed to do in the beginning of his reign) had suffered 
himself to be quietly borne along on the tide of public opinion, 
which was then setting with a smooth and steady current to- 
wards civil and religious liberty, he might have avoided the 
wreck which became inevitable after the waters had been too long 
pent up by the idle and temporary obstacles which bigotry and 
prejudice opposed to them. The course of the revolution by 
being slow and gentle might have been salutary and untroubled. 
But it is often the misfortune of kings to be behind the rest o 
mankind in wisdom as well as virtue. Louis had excellent feel- 
ings but wanted talent to see farther than those who surrounded 
him, and the natural benevolence of his temper heightens the re- 
gret we feel in seeing him perpetually the bubble of his court 
when so many dangers and troubles were gathering around him. 
Guided at one time by his own opinions, and at another by those 
of his counsellors, his conduct was wavering and irresolute when 
every vacillation of policy jarred the foundations of his throne, 
and added to the pile of combustible material which perseverance 
in error had heaped up around it. A match was almost ready to 
be applied to these after the dismissal of Turgot in 1776. The 
repeal of the stamp act by appeasing the dissatisfaction of the 
public retarded for ten years the American revolution. The ap- 
pointment of Mr. Neckar and the declaration of war against 
England in alliance with America probably arrested the break- 



123 

ing out of th^t of France bv diverting the public attention from 
domestic grevances, and flattering the national vanity with the 
prospect of recovering the glory which had been recently lost. 
The American revolution, however, by retarding that of France 
might have aggravated its disasters. By presenting too a suc- 
cessful example of political reform it unquestionably heightened 
the illusions of theoretical philosophy, and led away the imagi- 
nations of the sanguine and extravagant. It was hastily con- 
cluded that an old nation required no preparation for the best of 
governments, and that intelligence alone, without a high sense 
of justice in the public mind, was all that was necessary for the 
preservation of freedom. The aversion from arbitrary measures 
which was now growing apace in • this country was increased by 
the return of the army that went to America. The soldiers 
brought back with them the impressions that are inspired by the 
action of a mild and beneficent government, which ruled without 
oppression and controlled without tyranny. The officers too 
who commanded that expedition w ere men at that time of life in 
which the imagination and the heart are most susceptible of a 
passion for liberty^ The sublime simplicity of Washington's 
manners and the noble plainness of his retinue presented such a 
contrast to the languid pomp and frivolous splendour of the spec- 
tacle they were accustomed to behold at Versailles as weaned their 
fondness from pageantry. The French people also turn: -J their re- 
gards on the events of that war, and were pleased with the novelty 
of fighting for liberty. With that vivacity of imagination which is 
so peculiarly theirs, they ran into an excessive admiration ot 
freedom — began to contemplate their past history as humiliating 
to their national pride, and to find pleasure only in anticipating 
its future scenes, brightened and enlarged by the embellishments 
of vanity. A sort of affectation of independence and audacious 
contempt of the absurdities sanctioned by time, began to prevail 
at court, whilst a diminution of respect for the privileges of birth 
destroyed the elasticity of the main spring of monarchy. Schemes 
of speculative philosophy which prior to the American war were 
confined to literary men, began afterwards to circulate in all so- 
cieties. The rage of the day was to yield with enthusiasm to 
sentiments of universal benevolence, and to abandon without 
scruple the discharge of domestic duties. The principles of 



1^3 

general philanthropy were pushed so far, that books were written 
to shew that private affection was a foUj and gratitude a crime. 
Thus brilliant imaginations in the pursuit of the phantom of he- 
roical virtue trod down the realities of life and the obligations of 
nature. Sensible men miglit have perceived those changes, but it 
was not their business to sound the trumpet of alarm against prin- 
ciples of innovation, some of which thej approved. Among the 
nobles, whose chief pride was a long line of uncertain ancestors, 
there was scarcely talent enough to foresee the consequences of 
the new mode of thinking. An exquisite refinement of manners 
was their chief accomplishment, and they lived on, contented with 
filling the void of sense by the gestures of refinement. 

Historians assert, that during the American war the frivolity 
of fashionable life was so great in Paris, that for a time the city 
was divided into two parties, most rancorously hostile to each 
other, on the relative merits of the two musicians, Gluck and 
Piicini. But as many of the noblesse possessed the companion- 
able qualities in the highest degree, and it was their peculiar 
privilege to associate with the royal family, they had every op- 
portunity of deluding them. The king was fond of retirement 
and study, but the queen had a taste for brilliant society, and 
formed a gay circle around her, in wliich matters of the weightiest 
importance were lightly discussed, and hastily resolved on. 
There was so little frankness among these courtiers, that Doctor 
Franklin is said, on being asked what he thought of their since- 
rity, to have observed, ''none of them speak truth, from the Duke 
of Vergennes down to my valet de chambre " Indeed, so little im- 
portance did they attach to words, that Noailles carried his polite- 
ness so far, in announcing to the cabinet of St. James, the reso- 
lution of his court to acknowledge the independence of America, 
as to observe, that he did not doubt but that his Britannic ma- 
jesty would regard that act as an unequivocal evidence of the 
friendly dispositions of his Most Christian Majesty! Such were 
the moral sentiments of a country in which Mr. Burke would 
have us believe all was purity and bliss before the revolution 
broke down the barriers of virtue. To me, I confess, it appears 
that Mr. Flood was much nearer the truth, when he said, they 
did not begin with reparation in France, for there was nothing 
to repair; nor did they begin with ruin, for they found ruin 



124 

accomplished at their hands. The only fair motive for admiring- 
such a state of society, was that of the Emperor Joseph II. who, 
on being asked by a princess, in Paris, what he thought of the 
patriotism of the American militia, replied, ''Eh! Mais, Madame, 
mon metier a moi est d'etre royaliste." The very simplicity 
itself with which this Emperor travelled, put the French out of 
conceit of the ostentation with which their monarchs moved. 
Even at this day the king of France never takes his ''^promenade 
en voiture,'"'' without two coaches and eight, with fifty or an 
hundred horsemen clattering after him. 

The political horizon of France shewed many indications of a 
storm before the assembling of the states general. The admira- 
tion of England was, as I have already hinted, one of these. It 
was the rumbling of distant thunder, and ought to have opened 
the eyes of the Court. Men love to copy what they most admire; 
and travellers were then in the habit of returning, so captivated 
with the institutions of England, as to declare, says Lacretelle, 
"que la France etoit peu avancee dans sa civilization." Madame de 
Stael, too, in the course of her beautiful reflections on the French 
revolution, confirms this statement, and says that her father was 
particularly impressed with the superiority of the British insti- 
tutions; but that he considered it out of the sphere of his duty 
to propose their adoption. Now I must confess, I think Mr. 
Neckar was over- scrupulously delicate in this particular, and 
that nothing but his peculiar situation (as a Protestant and Ple- 
beian minister,) justified his silence. There was a hesitancy in 
this good man's character, which prevented his taking time by 
the forelock; and he had such a conviction of the uniform recti- 
tude of public sentiment, and of his own capacity to govern it, 
that he never dreaded the storm before it was up, nor perceived, 
till then, his inability to ride on and direct it. Yet who ever 
read his own numeration of the difficulties by which he was 
-constantly beset during his association with Maurepas — the host 
of antiquated prejudices which he went forward with fear and 
trembling, every day to combat, without feeling a noble respect 
for the benevolence of the man who thus sacrificed all the peace 
and comfort of his life, to improve the condition of his country? 

It is asserted by Rousseau,* that perhaps nothing was wanting 

* Vol. 25, p. 81. Edition 1793. 



125 

but leaders of credit to have excited a civil war in France, dur- 
ing the publication of the Ency dope die; and there is scarcely a 
doubt that a revolution would have taken place in 1770, when 
Louis XV. disgraced Choiseul, and threw twenty thousand heads 
of families into despair and ruin, by suppressing the parliament 
of Pai'is, if that minister had touched the people with half the 
interest he excited among the noblesse. The cup of provocation 
was then full, but the public were yet ignorant of their power 
to break it. But since the revolution was inevitable — since every 
obstacle that delayed it only served to wind up the spring of 
passion to a higher pitch, and let it oiF at last with a more de- 
structive velocity, who is there that would not have been better 
satisfied if this had happened when the glutton of debauchery 
filled the throne, than that it should have been left, to raise the 
guillotine on his amiable and benevolent successor. 

The common people, at that time, were more sensible of the vex- 
atious oppressions of the nobles, than of the burthensome weight 
of the crown. The extravagance of the former had condemned 
their tenantry to misery, whilst the comparative industry and 
frugality of the intermediate classes, having raised them to a 
condition of easy opulence, made them impatient at the privi- 
leges of a set of men, whose personal merit they regarded as in 
no manner superior to their own. They could not see without 
dissatisfaction, all preferments lavished on the nobly born, 
whilst plebeian worth and genius were condemned, without ap- 
peal, to obscurity and neglect. This was the germ of jealousy 
between high church and low church, between officers of grade^ 
and officers of exclusion, which afterwards grew into a sanguin- 
ary rage for equality. Nor did the encreasing hostility to exclu- 
sive privileges lose any occasion of shewing itself. The man- 
ner in which the city of Paris was, for more than one hundred 
nights together, attracted to the theatre, and fascinated by the 
marriage of Figaro, a play written expressly to ridicule tlie pri- 
vileges which certain classes enjoyed, for taking the trouble 'Ho 
be born," might have afforded them no unequivocal jpresage of 
their own destiny. But they heedlessly danced along to the 
brink of the precipice, without seeming ever to have perceived 
that the legal and political organization of France, of which 
they formed so conspicuous a part, fell entirely short of the 

17 



126 

wants and necessities of a people enlightened by the discoveries 
of tlie eighteenth century. 

The disastrous and disgraceful bankruptcy of prince Rohan, 
and the suspected purloining of the queen's necklace by a Car- 
dinal of the same name, in collusion with the Comtesse La 
Mothe, served also to diminish the respect of the people for the 
nobles. The ruddy countenances of the ecclesiastics, indicat- 
ing an excess of voluptuousness and sensuality in a body pre- 
tending to great humility and self denial, created vehement 
murmurings at their overgrown wealth, whilst the long wrang- 
lings between the kings and parliaments had brought to light 
such scenes of bigotry and imbecility, as might have discredited, 
in the eyes of the nation, the constitution of any state. In 
truth, the criminal jurisprudence of France had been long fun- 
damentally vicious In a country where juries were unknown, 
the power of life and death over the subject was confided to ar- 
bitrary judges, whose consciences, hardened by the habitual ex- 
ercise of tyranny, did not scruple, (as in the cases of Montbailli 
and Sirvens, and many others,) to condemn innocent indivi- 
duals, suspected only by the voice of rumour. The French na- 
tion, though proud of its progress in civilization, retained the 
practice of torture, not only in punishing offences, but in extort- 
ing confession. Its public jails were seemingly contrived for 
the propagation, rather than the suppression of vice; and its 
hospitals administered in a manner shocking to humanity. We 
are told, that the amiable and heroic Madame Neckar, the fe- 
male Howard of France, was, during the administration of her 
husband, in the daily habit of visiting the hospitals and prisons 
of Paris, and that in the exercise of this beautiful philanthropy, 
she brought to light such odious scenes of disorder and nedeet^ 
as disgusted the public feelings, and excited universal indigna- 
tion against those connected with the administration of these 
establishments. I have rejoiced to find the memory of the re- 
form produced by this inquiry of Madame Neckar, still cher- 
ished in France When the Jacobins drove her and' her husband 
-together out of the kingdom, she left the reputation of this good 
action behind her, as an angel might have dropped a mantle of 
light in his passage through the air. Nor are noble imitations 
ef this devotion to public good at all wanting in the course- ot 



127 

the revolution which followed. On the contrary, no nation ever 
exhibited sublimer instances of individual merit, and self im- 
molation on the altar of social and public good. I;i speaking of 
its general corruption, you are never to understand me as mean- 
ing more than a depraved majority which stood in need of ablution. 
We are told, in the Old Testament, that a city might have been 
spared from destruction, if five righteous souls could have been 
found in it — many thousand redeeming spirits were found in 
France, and they will multiply, I trust, till they lead her out 
of danger. Look, however, to the examples to which I allude. 
Are they to be found among the cringing creatures of legitimacy 
— the finical preachers of divine right and passive obedience? 
Are they to be found among those sanguinary Jacobins, who 
plunged up to their very necks in blood? or are they to be found 
among the friends of a mild and rational liberty? Among those 
who, when the power of the crown was arbitrary, were repulsed 
from court, and derided as republicans, but who were the only 
men that had courage to rally in support of it against the assaults 
of the ferocious Jacobins of '93, when the weapons of attack 
had not only dropped from its hand, but the armour of defence 
was fallen from around it. In that season of trial and adversity, 
when the carrion birds of Jacobinism collected in Paris to feed 
on human flesh; when none but such men as La Fayette and 
Malesherbes were found firm on the post of honor, where was 
then to be found the flock of jackdaw courtiers who had hovered 
and chattered so fiercely around the king, when he held the horn 
of fortune in his hand.?— But I feel that I am running before my 
subject, and that some other proofs are yet necessary to explain 
how completely the spirit of liberty is free from the crimes of 
the French revolution; and how equally justifiable it w^ould 
be to condemn the principles of agriculture for the weeds 
which might destroy the first crop on a new and unprepared 
field. 

France could not look around on the condition of her neigh- 
bours without encouragement to seek freedom. Slie was most 
centrally situated too for observation. Her northern frontier was 
scarcely separated from Holland, whose prosperity dated itself 
from the establishment of free institutions — and among the states 
of Germany each appeared happy and flourishing in proportion 



1S8 

to the liberality of its government. Touching Switzerland cm 
the tast, she had occasion to observe a sterile soil, in the hai.ds 
of freemen, become more fertile than her own productive plains. 
Italy herself, with all her lessons of freedom, was not remote 
from her. Even if the history of the Romans could have been 
forgotten, was there no contrast between the splendid activity of 
her little republics in the middle ages, and the sleep of despotism 
into which they were now fallen? There the country of Rome, 
once the most magnificent and delicious region of the earth, had 
become, after eighteen hundred years of despotism, the most 
melancholy district of the world. There, like that rock at Me- 
gara on which Apollo laid his lyre, and which ever after sent 
forth a melodious sound, even when galled by a chain, or chafed 
by a pebble, the vales of Tuscany, and the plains of Lombardy, 
still flourished under the remains and memory of that good old 
system of cultivation which freedom had created. 

In Spain, too, might she not have beheld some of the richest 
fields of Europe lying waste and desolate under the protection of 
the inquisition? But though all these had been lost on her, 
might not the rival ship and proximity of England alone have 
awakened her ambition? To what was the unparalleled great- 
ness of this people to be attributed? How did it happen, that 
so small a country should almost violate the laws of nature by 
an ascendancy in arms, as well as in prosperity over countries 
blessed infinitely beyond it in climate and in soil? 

France abounded too, at this time, in thinking and intelligent 
men, who, although they lacked political experience, carried 
their inquiries far and wide into the province of government. 
They were naturally led to ask, why a people like the French 
chivalrous in the field and polished at home, should be subjected 
to restrictions, from which their neighbours had been a century 
exempted? Why a nation, whose career in literature and sci- 
ence was marked by a brilliancy commensurate at least with the 
lights of England , should be burthened with gothic instituti(ins 
which reason condemned, and time only sanctioned as legiti- 
mate? Unhappily, however, for France, all classes did not 
march simultaneously towards the gaol which imagination and 
reason would have substituted in the place of existing institu- 
tions. Hence, it happened, that when the rational part of the 



12^ 

nation began the work of revolution, they found all their plans 
of reform counteracted by a disciplined corps of nobles and re- 
ligionists, whose clamours and machinations they could not put 
down, without calling to their own aid a rabble of ignorant and 
miserable peasants. Melancholy indeed, must be always the 
condition of wisdom, when she is forced into an alliance with 
ignorance. So it proved on this occasion. The peasantry felt 
their chains, and were willing to break them at any price; and 
when they had done so, they rushed into the light of liberty with 
such rashness, that their weak eyes were blinded by excess of 
glory, and they fell into ruin from mistaking equality for free- 
dom, and rapine for justice. 



LETTEH TI. 

Paris, Feb. 25th, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

Before the revolution, the government of France was ad- 
ministered by an arbitrary monarch, assisted by three great cor- 
porations, the church, the noblesse, and the parliaments. The 
greater part of the land in the kingdom had fallen into the hands 
of the two former in consequence of their exemption from taxa- 
tion. The Church, independent of its immense possessions, was 
in the enjoyment of the fifth part of the nett product of the ter- 
litorial revenue of the state.* They had accumulated this wealtli 
by practising on the hopes and fears of the superstitious; and 
such was the absorbing nature of the ecclesiastical gulph that no 
prQperty which entered it, ever got out again. The celibacy of 
the priests, the monks, and the nuns, cut them off from those 
sympathies on which conjugal and parental happiness depend; 
whilst their luxury relaxed the sense of their duties, and gave 
them the appearance of drones feeding on the honey of a hive 
which they never assisted in filling. The declin^*^of reverence 
for monastic institutions was followed by a general impression, 
that the immense sums appropriated to their support might be 
better applied in relieving the wants of the squalid wretches 
that haunted the streets of every town in France, than in crea- 
ting asylums for such of the younger children of the noblesse as 
it might suit their vanity or their tyranny to condemn to a lazy 
imprisonment. 

The power of the noblesse consisted of rights over their tenan- 
try, and of influence at court. It was necessary to have belong- 
ed to that class a hundred years in order to be allowed the hon- 
our of defeuding France as an officer, and four hundred, to be 
admitted at court. Thus the distinction of an ancestor who had 

* Precis de la Revolution, Vol. i. p. 8. 



II 



131 

been dead a thousand years was a higher merit than the posses- 
sion of either virtue or talent; and Lord Bacon's maxim that 
*^'thej who reverence too much old times, are but a scorn to the 
new," became verified. But the French nobility were brave, 
chivalrous, and hospitable; for such is the paradoxical mercurial- 
ism of the French character, that laxity of morals does not abate 
its courage, nor deprave many of the finer feelings of the heart. 
This is the only people, I believe, which was ever fierce in the 
bosom of voluptuousness, or who could decorate so beautifully 
with garlands the temple of vice as to conceal its deformities. — 
Hence the justness of Mr. Burke's eulogium, that in Paris vice 
lost half its evil by losing all its grossness. 

The judicial aristocracy of France consisted of y about a dozen 
provincial parliaments, whose abuses were perhaps the most 
incorrigible of all, because an occasional refusal to register the 
edicts of the court had given them the semblance of popular 
bodies. They were small corporations uniting to a temper as 
arbitrary as the laws they administered, a ridiculous vanity of 
newly acquired honours, and that obsequious veneration of 
rank which characterizes upstarts. They were courts in which 
judges might purchase seats, and therefore seek reimbursement 
by the sale of their decisions. They had once ordered an an- 
nual thanksgiving for the massacre of St. Barthelemi, and had 
never been squeamish in shedding blood. Nor was such cor- 
ruption remarkable, for venality had crept into every thing. 
^'Quid leges«ftne moribus, vanse proficiunt?"* The mere right 
of exercising a trade was an object of sale, and industry was 
every where chained by monopolies. These exclusive privileges, 
which are nothing more than legitimated robberies on society, 
are said to have amounted to more than three hundred thou- 
sand at the beginning of the revolution. United to heavy 
rents and taxes, they kept the peasants in extreme poverty. 
The Corvee, too, might sacrifice the labourer's little harvest, by 
calling his family at any season three or four leagues from home 
to repair highways, which were three times as wide as those 
of the Romans — and the Gabelle almost deprived the people of 
the use of salt. But these grievances were endless — '^France," 
Says Madame de Stael, '*has been governed by customs, fre- 

* Hor. Ode xxiv. I. 35 and SS. 



13S 

quently by caprice, and never by laws." If, under such a gov- 
ernment, the nobles become courtiers, the clergy hypocrites, and 
the people slaves, is there any strong reason for the latter to wish 
to preserve it. But independent of the moral distemper engen- 
dered by bad government, and which was preying on the vitals of 
the state, the revenue, which braces if it does not constitu e its 
nerves, was wanting to hold it together. M. De Calonne adaiits, 
I think, in his apology, that when he advised the assembUag the 
Notables, in 1787, the deficit of the revenue amounted to more 
than one hundred millions of livres, or twenty millions of dol- 
lars. To prevent the fall of the monarchy, under such circum- 
stances, must have been difficult, but after the king lefi it 
to be supported by the sparkling levity of the pratiling Ca- 
lonne, and the indiscrimate rashness and sickly wavering of 
Brienne, it was next to impossible. Besides, the old edifice 
was now out of fashion — nobody liked it — and so violent was 
the spirit of reform, that slight reparations would not have been 
sufficient. Men of letters combined with the rabble in condemning 
it; and thus literature and oppression may be said to have scat- 
tered principles of liberty ancl discontent abroad over the land; 
and, like dragon's teeth, wherever they had fallen, armed men 
were ready to spring up. 

In this state of things, a mere suggestion of the expediency of 
calling the states general, was received in the parliament of 
Paris with a vociferation of applause; and the resoundings of this 
enthusiasm were echoed back from every corner of the kingdom. 
A wise prince, on hearing these reverberations, might have fore- 
seen a tempest, and instead of resolving to await the dissolution 
of the storm, might have taken measures to allay it. The imme- 
diate adoption of a free constitution of government might have 
done this; but Louis XVI. like many good Frenchmen, was in- 
capable ot comprehending the advantages of a free government; 
and as he fancied it his duty to transmit, unimpaired, to his 
posterity, the prerogatives of his crown, he stood still, until what 
he ought to have granted was torn from him. His ministers did not 
feel themselves authorised to enlighten him on this subject, and 
when the public clamour for reform was loud, and when loss of 
time was the loss of every thing, he fell into a stale of nertness, 
and stupefaction. Nothing could have Deen more unfortunate 



133 

for him. The perils which surrounded him were not to be dissi» 
pated bj petty expedients — yet, when his treasury was empty, 
and when an universal murmur followed the publication of every 
royal edict, he expected to fill the one, and to silence the other 
by the aid of a frivolous archbishop, who in turn imagined, that a 
great nation might be awed into submission by the arrest of two 
members of the parliament of Paris, or of a few gentlemen in 
Brittany for remonstrating against the causes of the national 
grievances. "If time," says the father of modern philosophy, 
^'shall alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall 
not alter them to the better, what shall be the end?" Whether 
it was then too late for alteration or not, is a question which can 
iiever be determined. But one thing is clear — the king conceded 
every point reluctantly, and never once recollected, that ''a 
fro ward retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an inno- 
vation "* 

The French are a people who embrace novelties with infinite? 
animation; and many discoveries in the arts and sciences occur- 
red about that time to excite the imagination. Even air balloons 
and animal magnetism came in opportunely to heighten the deli- 
rium, which went on increasing, until it became fashionable to 
believe any thing, except what had been believed in the prece- 
ding age. Discontent with arbitrary government, without any 
just comprehension of liberty, gained ground every day, until, at 
last, among Louis's subjects, all became republicans in opinion, 
but none in practice. 

Before I came to this country, and when I was in the habit of 
looking at it, either through the fine kaleidescope of Mr. Burke's 
imao-ination, or through the shadowing prism of its late over- 
whelming calamities, I was, I confess, of opinion, that the abu- 
ses of the old regime might have been remedied without a violent 
rupture; that Louis XVI. by uniting some boldness to discretion 
in granting the nation a charter, might have satisfied it, and 
availed himself of the advantage which Mr. Fox ascribed to vo- 
luntary givers in general, that of commanding the limits of what 
they give, and fixing the qualifications of the gift. But a nearer 
observation of the character of this people, and a recollection of 

* Bacon. 
18 



134 

the deplorable condition in which they then were, have led me to 
doubt the justness of that conclusion. The French embrace a 
favourite project with so much vivacity, that they seldom fail to 
overleap the bounds of reason in pursuing it. Now, independent 
of the enthusiasm for liberty with which circumstances had then 
inspired them; there was such a multitude of grievances to be 
redressed, and such an immense swarm of persons of influence, 
whose interests were opposed to any change, and on whom every 
suggestion of reform acted, like Satan's sword on his host of 
rebel angels, in calling them up with a resolution, '^never to 
submit or yield," that one may reasonably doubt whether any 
revolution could have been tranquilly accomplished, or indeed 
accomplished at all, without the levelling of all distinctions and 
authorities. 

That the assembling of the States General was embraced as a 
mere temporary expedient, and that it was not intended to effect 
any radical change in the form of government, is evident, I 
think, from various circumstances, and among others, from the or- 
ganization of that body not having been previously determined on. 
Instead of this, Brienne gave it out as a question to be publickly 
discussed, and thus stirred up Sb fermentation in the public mind 
by the sudden agitation of all manner of whimsical projects and 
extravagant theories. The king himself seems to have had no 
settled ideas on the subject, and to have taken no precautions 
against the dissensions which it might have been foreseen would 
arise among such a corps of undisciplined politicians. Perhaps 
he entertained the vain imagination of triumphing more easily 
over an assembly split into factions by the virulence of party 
feeling, or fancied that the rage of intestine divisions might 
prevent the assembly from melting into union, when the power 
of the crown threatened it w4th dissolution. 

When the funds in the treasury were reduced to two hun- 
dred and fifty thousand livres, (fifty thousand dollars,) and the 
incapacity of Brienne become notorious, the king reluctantly 
yielded to the necessity of recalling Mr. Neckar from exile to 
re-occupy the place from which he had been expelled about seven 
years before. This minister, if not a skilful architect, was un- 
questionably the best repairer of those times, and if he had not 
been originally driven from his station, he might have so patched 



135 

up the vessel of state as to enable her to ride out some years long- 
er; but he now found her joints so worn and cracked by the dila- 
pidations of time and the ravages of peculators, that there was no 
chance of holding her timbers together, if the slightest rough wea- 
ther should happen to assail her. To retract the king's promise 
of assembling the States General was impossible, even if it had 
been consonant with the new minister's principles of policy, and 
therefore he has been chiefly censured for not having determined 
on the plan of the assembly and the mode of deliberation. Yet, 
we shall hereafter have occasion to perceive that there were cir- 
cumstances which palliated, if they did not excuse his remiss- 
ness. His judgment might have preferred two bodies, but policy 
might have dictated the temporary union of the three orders into 
one chamber. The augean stable wanted sweeping, and Mr. 
Neckar knew the selfishness of mankind, — he knew that the 
nobles hated him as an upstart, the clergy dreaded him as a he- 
retic, and that the royal family disliked him on account of his 
republican simplicity and principles of reform. 

His giving to the Commons a number of representatives equal 
to those of the noblesse and clergy united, strengthened his po- 
pularity in the nation, and sharpened the hostility of the privi- 
leged orders. The imputation, however, which these afterwards 
threw out against him, of having, from the beginning, planned 
their ruin, and meditated the union of the three estates into 
one body, is so far from being supported by evidence, that it is 
contradicted by the very number of which the assembly itself 
was composed. Twelve hundred men cannot act together with 
convenience, or deliberate with wisdom. No matter how well 
so large a body may have been trained to parliamentary discip- 
line, its acts will be influenced more by the gusts of passion, 
than by the impulses of reason. Now, it could never have en- 
tered into the contemplation of Mr. Neckgr, whose object it was 
to modify, not to overthrow, to call together an intractable mob, 
whose angry dissentions must not only retard the administration 
of aiFairs, but hurl him from the seat it was his ambition to oc- 
cupy. Nor could it ever have entered into his views, (even if 
he had not possessed the high benevolence and patriotism which 
characterized him,) to demolish a government in whose treasury 
he deposited one half of his private fortune. As events after- 



136 

wards turned out, it might have been wiser to have formed an 
hereditary senate ot not more than two hundred of the higher 
classes, and a house of commons of more than double that num- 
jber. Thej might, in this case, have followed in their reformation 
the advice of the scripture, ''and made a stand upon the ancient 
way, and then looked about them and discovered which was the 
straight and right way, and so to have w alked in it." But to 
have formed such an assembly, was at that time utterly imprac- 
ticable. The whole court would have revolted at the suggestion 
of it. Those who were not included in the upper house, would 
have been in arms against it. The clergy had already shewn, at 
the assembly of the Notables, a wish to be considered as a body 
independent of the nation, enjoying a third of its revenues, bi^ 
unwilling to contribute to its support. The noblesse were bent 
on retaining their privileges, and from inveterate jealousy of 
the rising respectability of the Tiers etat had already protested 
against its double representation, and would have never con- 
sented to an enlargement of it, nor to its forming alone one 
chamber, whilst the two upper orders formed but one. "Quo- 
rum superbiam frustra per obsequium et modestiam eflfugeres."* 
How then was the States General to be modelled.^ Why, after the 
obscure precedents of a remote antiquity which the court rever- 
ed, and not after the dictates of common sense, which it despis- 
ed. Time, therefore, was thrown away in ridiculous researches 
into the records of French history; and all the court seemingly 
fell asleep over them, except the Comte de Provence, (the pre- 
sent king of France) who observed to the municipality of Paris, 
that ''a revolution was at hand, and that the king, from his vir- 
tues, good intentions, and rank, should place himself at the 
head of it." 

Unhappily, in the earlier periods of French history, the un- 
certainty of the rights of each order in the States General had 
destroyed the harmony of its deliberations, and caused that time 
which should have been devoted to public business to be wasted 
in the discussion of their respective privileges. If any sparks of 
patriotic zeal broke out among the commons, they were sure to 
be extinguished by the arrogant fatuity of the majority of the no- 
blesse, or the hood-winking bigotry of that of the clergy. Philip 

* Tacitus. 



137 

ie Long had once wisely excluded the clergy from the States 
General, to prevent interfering with their ecclesiastical duties, but 
in its last meeting, after the death of Henry IV. they had formed 
a chamber by themselves. On the present occasion, as nothino- 
more than relief from financial embarrassment was contemplated 
in convoking it; as the object of the king was probably to induce 
the higher orders to make some sacrifices for the public welfare, 
and as the habitual exercise of absolute power led him to the ap- 
prehension of no opposition from the commons, and to the belief 
of his power to dissolve them at will, he was induced to grant a 
double representation to the tiers etat with a view of increasing 
his own power. This determination, and the recal of Mr. Nec- 
1^, which caused the funds to rise thirty per cent, in a day, had 
produced a general exhiliration throughout France, and consi- 
derably fortified the popularity of the king. The French are of 
an amiable and forgiving nature, and if all doubt of the sincerity 
of Louis in effecting a permanent reform could have been avoid- 
ed, this popularity would have been much more lasting. 

For a year or two before the assembling of the States General, 
conversation had assumed throughout France a more rational 
turn. It was never, we are told, embellished with so many 
charms, nor animated with so much wit as during this season of 
hope and joy. The asperity of party feeling had not yet disco- 
loured it, — the spirit of philosophy had blown the foam of frivo- 
lity out of it, and the enthusiasm of imagination never sufiered 
it to languish, Ladies took a lead, even on grave and serious 
topics, and la manie du bel-esprit became universal. Scandalous 
anecdotes were received with indifference, or the affectation of 
disdain, and pleasantries on religion fell into disuse because they 
had lost the charm of novelty. Every sparkle of wit, or flash of 
eloquence was hailed with rapture, as an indication of splendid 
powers of oratory, which on the assembling of the States Gene- 
ral, might adorn the French language with productions such as 
those by which Fox and Pitt, and Sheridan and Burke, were 
every day extending the renown of Great Britain. 

I think we are told by Lacretelle in his history, that under 
the reigns which preceded this of Louis XVI. scarcely more than 
twenty courtiers at a time ever manifested the talent or ambition 
of meddling in state affairs; but that this king was always beset 



138 

by a crowd, who claimed that privilege with importunate eager- 
ness. Under Louis XIV. the radiations of learning had not 
spread beyond the circumference of the higher circles of society, 
and therefore the others were content to be governed by those 
whom they considered wiser than themselves: but under his suc- 
cessors, instruction became diffused over a wider sphere, and 
nourished up to high intelligence many more capacities. Society 
however, was not so organized as to weld and consolidate the 
talents of the different classes together, but rather to throw them 
into opposition, and to endow them with that repelling nature 
which is observable in the similar poles of a magnet. 

From the desire on the one part to maintain, and on the other 
to break down, those arbitrary distinctions which classed the 
French nation into two species of men, ''des oppresseurs et des 
opprimes," arose that jealousy and discord which proved so fa- 
tal to the happiness of this country. The hostility of the com- 
mons to the privileged classes displayed itself very violently at 
the elections. A general burst of applause was excited, by even 
that eloquent address of Mirabeau, in which he declared, that 
privileges should end and the power of the people be eternal; in 
which he denounced the aristocrats as the implacable enemies of 
the nation; and after hinting at himself as the probable victim of 
their vengeance, because he had belonged to their order, he point- 
ed out the prototype of his future conduct. "Ainsi perit le der- 
nier des Gracques de la main des Patriciens; mais atteint d'un 
coup mortel il lan^a de la poussiere vers le ciel en attestant les 
dieux vengeurs; et de cette poussiere naquit Marius; Marius 
moins grand pour avoir extermine les Cimbres que pour avoir 
abattu dans Rome Paristocratie de la noblesse." 

Travelling was much less common formerly in France than at 
present, and therefore many members of the States General, in 
emerging suddenly from distant provinces, where they had lived 
familiar with scenes of distress and wretchedness, beheld, for 
the first time, the splendours of Versailles, and are said to have 
been offended by the contrast between the gorgeous pomp of the 
court and the penury of the nation. Nor do I think this at all 
extraordinary — for after spending a day in walking through the 
splendid apartments of these sumptuous palaces, and over the ar- 
tificial hills and vallies of their magnificent gardens, I remem- 



139 

ber the impression they made on me, and the observation of an 
American gentleman who accompanied me — "It is time for me 

to return;" said he, ''I left home a very rational republican 

these scenes have almost made me a democrat, and a few more 
might make me a jacobin." Now, in America, where there are 
no objects of beggary, or in England, where every thing breathes 
of opulence, scenes of this kind would be less striking than in 
France, where even yet the villages look like the filthy abodes of 
misery. Among the French peasantry, the first effect of compe- 
tence has been to add to the internal comforts of their rooms; 
cleanliness and external embellishments have been, as yet, but 
little attended to, and, therefore, the appearance of the houses 
does not often correspond with the interior decorations. 

At length, after many difficulties and delays, the States 
General met on the 5th of May, 1789. Never was national 
expectation more highly excited than on this occasion. It 
was a day of rejoicing and promise, on which hope stood on 
tiptoe in every mind. The sentiments of the public may 
be judged of, from the extraordinary unanimity of opin- 
ion which prevailed among the six hundred delegates of the 
Tiers Etat. They seem each to have gone to Versailles, with a 
resolution to assert their rights and to maintain them — to re- 
member '^ue les prieres du peuple sont des ordres — que ses 
doleances sont des loix."* I do not mean to say, that they met 
with the frenzied spirit of reform, which afterwards animated 
them, and which brought down the revolution like '-the thun- 
dering lauwine" on France, but only that they assembled with 
the intention of achieving, if possible, a change in their consti- 
tution of government. The king perceived this, and observed to 
the assembly, that a general inquietude and rage for innovation 
had seized upon every mind; and yet the privileged orders had 
not sagacity enough to perceive that it would be wise to yield 
to day, that which would infallibly be torn from them to-mor- 
row. When experienced seamen see a storm coming up, they 
slacken sail, brace up their yards, and lay the ship too, in order 
to drift with it. Nothing but folly or madness could suggest the 
hoisting of top-gallant sails and sky-sails under such circumstan- 
ces. Yet this seems to have been the conduct of the French no- 

* Discours de Boissv d'Ansrlas. 



140 

bles and clergy; for instead of a timely surrender of their feudal 
privileges they coalesced and conspired to preserve them, and 
to acquire political power also. These orders consisted, at that 
time, of about sixty thousand nobles, and one hundred thousand 
privileged persons* — of about two hundred thousand priests — 
and of sixty thousand monks, who had, it is true, renounced the 
temptations of the flesh and the world, but still meddled in its 
concerns. In this coalition to keep things as they were, may 
also be included a large class of government pensioners and, 
ofl5ce hoLlers, who, living on the offal of the state, were the na- 
tural friends of that prodigality from which they derived their 
licences of peculation. This powerful combination could only 
be opposed successfully by the body of the nation. Hence, the 
most virtuous and enlightened men were driven into an offensive 
and defensive alliance with those, whom ignorance had debased, 
and oppression corrupted. This connexion, which nothing but 
the obdurate folly of the higher orders and the necessities of 
the times could have created, was in itself so unnatural and dis- 
cordant, that great evil as well as great good must have grown 
out of it. Many of the nobility and clergy, however, deserve to 
be distinguished out of this general censure, for they displayed 
the noblest generosity and patriotism. But the majority acted 
with strange infatuation, in first exasperating the Commons bj 
proud pretensions, and then driving them to madness by an ob- 
stinate adherence to their privileges. Nothing but the invete- 
rate hostility of the cabal about the court against all reformation j 
could have induced the National Assembly to lay hold, like 
Sampson, on the pillars of the temple which sheltered their ene- 
mies, and to tumble it about their heads, even though they them- 
selves might perish under its ruins. 

* Precis de la Revolutiono 



LETTER VII. 

Paris ^ March 2d, 18£0. 
My Dear Sir, 

To the bright and brilliant Aurora of 89, succeeded a cloudy 
morning and the thunders of a stormy day. The sun of liberty 
made violent emissions of his rays it is true, but the clouds of 
folly continued to boil up from every side of the horizon till the 
year of '93, when they closed in, in such heavy masses as to shut 
out his light entirely from France, and to cover this land for a 
time with the darkness of despotism and the horrors of anarchy. 
It is not my intention, however, at present, to lead you through 
all the windings of the labyrinth of error in which the parties of 
the revolution lost themselves, and for the want of the illumina- 
tion of virtue and experience, mistook the slaughter house of 
faction for the temple of liberty. I only wish to shew you that 
the lights which led them into these entanglements were not the 
stars of freedom, but those meteoric illusions which rise from the 
tenny grounds of despotism and float about in the atmosphere of 
ignorance. 

One of the most melancholy consequences of the French revo- 
lution in Europe, is the disposition of mind it has left to mistake 
impatience under oppression for a love of insubordination. No 
nation can now ask a redress of grievances, or such a change of 
its institutions as might place them in harmony with its advance 
in civilization without having all the horrors of the French revo- 
lution called up by its rulers to frighten it into contentment. 
The ruin of church and state— the desolation of the country— 
the massacre of its inhabitants, and a final submission to a mili- 
tary despot, are represented as the necessary consequences of 
any popular attempt to acquire freedom. The diflfusion of vice 
and misery created by governments which foster ignorance is no 
longer remembered; the sufferings of thousands whose very sighs 

19 



143 

are suppressed by legitimate monarchs, are disbelieved; and the 
bl >odj proscriptions of tyrants, the very recording of which is 
prevented by despotism, are forgotten; or if perchance any of 
them should have escaped from oblivion, they are recalled with 
the most forgiving charity as the crimes of accident. But if any 
factious maniacs, in the mistaken pursuit of liberty, commit an 
atrocity, it is invested with every gratuitous horror the imagina- 
tion can invent, and emblazoned to the world as the necessary 
consequence of the spirit of liberty; as if in fact this spirit were 
any more responsible for the crimes committed in its name, than 
water is for the convulsions it brings on in the hydrophobia. 

The characters of men are determined by education, and al- 
though they may best discover themselves in the sudden know- 
ledge of a prosperous accident, they can never be imagined to 
be created by it. In the like manner, the character of a nation 
is formed by time and circumstances; so that if on a sudden 
emancipation it should become intoxicated, and fall into a deli- 
rium, and commit many follies in mistaking the abuse of its 
faculties for the use of them, it is not emancipation but restric- 
tion that produces this evil. Hence the criminal violence of a 
suddenly liberated people is generally in proportion to the excess 
of the oppression under which they have lived. Nature, for ex- 
ample, had done every thing to render France prosperous and 
happy, but absurd institutions had contraried her intentions, 
and destroyed the excellence of her gifts: so that to no nation 
could Sully's observation be more justly applied — *'Ce n'est ja- 
mais par envie d'attaquer que le peuple se souleve mais par 
impatience de souffmr." When they broke their chains, therefore, 
they wantoned in excess of folly. The rebellion in England was 
less bloody than the revolution in France, principally because the 
government that brought it on had been less arbitrary. Under its 
more benign influence, a sense of justice had grown up among 
the people — the nobility, instead of being a class separate and 
distinct from the nation, had been blended with it through the 
younger branches of their families, and the reformation had in- 
fused into the public mind something of the spirit of toleration, 
along with a zeal for religion. 

The men who brought about the Bevolution in England were 
t*ie children of the RebtUion^ they had imbibed many of its best 



i4S 

principles; had had their minds trained up to a rational sense of 
justice; and hence the change of government they effected, 
caused the effusion of no blood at all. It was about the time of the 
Rebellion, too, that the English peopled their provinces in Ame- 
ric-i The colonists consequently carried over with them the 
seeds of liberty, which they scattered on a fresh soil, where they 
sprouted luxuriantly, and came to maturity in the following cen- 
tury. Accordingly when the oppressions of the mother country 
called forth the spirit of liberty in America, it achieved the in- 
dependence of our country, not only without massacre but with- 
out the shedding of a drop of blood on the scaffold The case 
of the unfortunate Major Andre does not contradict this asser- 
ion; for as a spy he fell a victim to the laws of war among civilized 
nations, and nofthe arbitrary decrees of a revolutionary tribunal. 

The people oi Holland, and the present inhabitants of South 
America, lived under the rigorous yoke of the Spaniards, and 
their struggles for freedom have been sanguinary in the extreme. 
The immolation of twenty thousand victims did not glut the ven- 
geance of Philip II.; and as to the massacres in South America, let 
us draw a veil over them, lest they should unjustly injure a cause 
in the success of which every friend of humanity must rejoice. In 
France, before the revolution, the poor were oppressed, misera^ 
bie, aiid ignorant. If then, they drew some of their principles of 
action from what Mr. Burke calls the alembic of hell, is their 
wickedness to be ascribed to the inspirations of liberty, or to 
those of despotism? When and where did men educated under 
a free government ever level all the distinctions between vice 
and virtue? When and where did they immolate such minds 
as those of Lavoirsier and Malesherbes, and such sainted spirits 
as those of madame Roland and Marie Antoinette, on the same 
scaffold with such drinkers of blood as Thinville and Carrier and 
Robespierre? Until these atrocities shall have been emulated by 
freemen, let us have done with the profanation of attributing 
them to the spirit of liberty. 

V^ hen the States General took the resolution of forming them- 
selves into a National Assembly, and when their determination 
was hailed with acclamations of applause by all France, there 
were three courses of policy only left to the option of Louis XVI* 
He might have embraced the spirited resolution of subduing his 



144 

people, and rivetting the chains of despotism on them by the 
army, the noblesse, and the clergy; or he might have adopted 
the more prudent course of throwing himself into the stream of 
public opinion, which was then swelling every day from the thaw 
of free principles, and have attempted to guide and regulate its 
current, so as to have prevented the dangers of a torrent or a 
cataract;— or he might have resolved to decide on nothing; to 
stand an idle spectator, suspended between prejudice and duty, 
and thus to dream away in indecision those hours which were 
big with momentous events. The first must have ended in his 
ruin, the second might have preserved him his crown, and the 
third which suited best the amiable hesitation and diffidence of 
his character, was seemingly perhaps the least hazardous, yet 
actually the most fatal. Mr. Neckar perceived the dangers of 
the conjuncture in which the king was placed, and urged him to 
be prompt and vigorous in his measures. He advised him to ex- 
cite the gratitude of all honest men, by the voluntary surrender 
of useless prerogatives, and prevent the violent dissentions 
which must arise in settling the forms of a constitution in an as- 
sembly composed of twelve hundred legislators, of opposite in- 
terests and resentfully jealous of each other, by adopting with- 
out delay for France, the British constitution of government. 
Madame de Stael states that the differences between the three es- 
tates, might have been reconciled by the plan of their voting in 
one body on questions of taxation, and in two on other questions; 
yet it is difficult to imagine this, since the same power was vir- 
tually possessed by the commons, who were not obliged to assent 
to any regulations but their own on that subject The adoption 
of the charter which her father prepared, might have produced 
that effect, and the king himself was becoming aware of its neces- 
sity, when unluckily the cabal of courtiers that hung around the 
palace, drew hiai off' from Versailles to Marly, and by speakino- 
disdainfully of the prerogatives of the British monarch, induced 
him to change his resolution. The rejection of this scheme par- 

alized all Neckar's plans for maintaining the king's popularity 

laid the foundation of the entire alienation of the public confi- 
dence and esteem, — and drove even the advocates of rational re- 
form, inta the adoption of the most wild and chimerical projects. 
The last opportunity of compromise was then lost, and from that 



145 

day, the national assembly may be said to have laid close sieo-e 
to the crown. The mode of defence too adopted bv the kinff 
and court was presumptuous in the extreme. Forgetting the in- 
ve«itions of modern science, they took up their position behind 
the ramparts of antiquity, and resolved to defend the most con- 
temptible outworks of their ancestors to the last, nor ever to 
yield up the most useless bastion or counterscarp until their 
enemies had demolished it. 

V\ hen a mere rumor of Mr. Neckar's resignation w^as per- 
ceived to have excited vehement displeasure in the nation, the 
ultra royalist cabal resolved on keeping him in office until their 
stratagem was ripe for execution. They therefore advised the 
king to feign an entire acquiesce^'ce in his view^s, at the very 
time they w ere discussing the propriety of lodging him in the 
Bastile. Private orders were next given to the German troops 
to advance towards Paris; whilst a conspiracy was forming to 
collect the members of the assembly, least favorable to innova- 
tion, at Compiegne; to hurry them into compliance with such 
loans or taxes as the necessities of the government required, and 
then dissolve them for ever. Could any, but men in whom the 
rage of anger had smothered the perceptions of reason, have 
embraced a scheme of Machiavelian policy like this.^ Could 
any who retained common sense have failed to see that in the 
state in which France then was, it was as impotent an attempt 
as that in ancient times, of climbing up to heaven by the aid of 
the tower which presumptuous folly piled on the plains of ^hinar? 

The king was too weak to escape becoming the bubble of these 
simpletons, and too good to expose his minister to their venge- 
ance. He therefore, when the arrangements were finished, issued 
an order to Mr. Neckar in the middle of the night, to quit France 
instantaneously and in a clandestine manner. This minister, 
who had much of the beautiful part of French chivalry in his 
character, obeyed the royal order so promptly as to leave his 
own family ignorant of his exile, and to give no occasion to the 
dragoons who pursued him to exercise their commission of arrest. 
No sooner was it known, on the thirteenth of July at Versailles, 
that he was dismissed, than Mounier moved to supplicate the 
king to recal him, and was supported in doing so by the virttous 
Lalli ToUendalh, who exerted on that occasion, all the sweetness 



146 

and persuasiveness of his eloquence. He contrasted the gloom j 
situation of France in the preceding summer, before the recal 
of Mr. Neckar, with her comparative prosperity afterwards. At 
that time, said he, the laws were without ministers, and twenty- 
five millions of people without judges; the treasury was empty 
and without credit; the people had no hope but in the States 
General, and no confidence in the ministers who promised to 
assemble it; and in addition to all these political evils, nature 
had, in her wrath, added the desolation of the country and the 
prospect of famine. But the cry of truth reached the king, and 
he recalled Mr Neckar from exile. In a moment justice resum- 
ed her sceptre; public credit re-appeared, and the treasury was 
replenished; the prisons were opened and returned their victims 
to society; the two worlds were put in contribution to prevent 
famine, and the revolts in the provinces appeased. Yet this man, 
who not a year before sacrificed himself to the kingdom, was now 
driven like a malefactor from it. 

Immediately after this, occurred that feast of the Guards which, 
produced the most impetuous flash of eloquence that ever burst 
from the lips of Mirabeau. The thunder of his voice on this 
occasion shook the monarchy of France to the very point of 
dissolution; and if those who governed it had not suffered their 
wills to lord it over their reason, they might have seen in that 
speech the hand writing inscribing their destiny on the wail. Its 
audacity alone, was a convincing evidence that royalty no longer 
inspired fear or veneration in France; and the applause it excit- 
ed, might have shown the Court the folly of attempting to con- 
trary the temper which then prevailed in the nation. 

No sooner was the exile of Neckar known in Paris, than the 
whole city rose in insurrection — the theatres were closed as an 
act of public mourning, and a hundred thousand men set deliber- 
ately to work to demolish the Bastile; nor did they desist from 
their labour, until not one stone was left standing on another.-— 
The same spirit flew over the nation, and so fast too, that it is 
asserted by historians, that in less than a fortnight two millions 
of men were up in arms against the cabal at Versailles, who 
stood petrified with astonishment and grief. The king now re- 
pented of his folly in parting v/ith the only pilot who might have 
conducted the ship of state into smooth water. The troops were 



147 

ordered immediately te retire, and couriers were dispatched in 
pursuit of Neckar, to solicit him to return. This minister had 
made his escape to the nearest frontier of France, that of Bel- 
gium, and was pursuing the route to Switzerland by the Rhine, 
when he was overtaken by the king's messengers. He obeyed 
the summons. But he who had gone out of France leaving no- 
thing but grief and consternation behind him, now returned into 
it, not with the deUverin«5 strength of Camillus, but, as Mr» 
Burke expresses it, to seat himself, "like Marius, on ruins." 

The political irritation of the French nation was very high, 
even before the court, by the banishment of Mr. Neckar, threw a 
challenge into its face. The opening of the states general had 
excited a great effervescence in the public mind, and nothing 
had been yet done to soften and subdue it. Delays in verifying 
the election of the members, and debates on the organization of 
the assembly, had exposed the nakedness of the government, 
and sharpened the jealousy with which each party watched the 
other. The Commons had met with the conviction,* that there 
were so many difficulties to be overcome, and sacrifices to be 
made; so many prejudices to vanquish and old habits to root out; 
and so many powers to destroy and to create, that there would 
be no chance of the establishment of a free form of government, 
unless the assembly should be organized into one chamber. 

As France laboured under the oppression of the higher orders, 
they excited the fears of all, and none apprehended danger from 
the triumph of the Tiers Etat. Hence, many members of the 
noblesse and clergy concurred with the Commons, in the belief 
that an union into one body was necessary until the constitution 
should be formed. They were aware that a single assembly was 
peculiarly liable to be led astray by the insinuations of intrigue, 
or the gusts of passion, but deemed this danger the lesser evil in 
the exigency in which they were placed. They were aware, that 
no constitution of government is good, in which it is in the 
power of one branch to ruin another; and that in a monarchy, the 
cement of a. nobility is necessary, according to Montesquieu's 
maxim, "point de monarque, point de noblesse; point de noblesse 
point de monarque; mais on a un despote;" yet as all the conces- 
sions were to be made by the upper classes, it was deemed 

* See the speeches of LalU Tollendalb, and the Count D'Entraigiies.- 



148 

necessary to strip them first, and make them independent after- 
wards. 

The discussions of the assembly drew the attention of all the 
French to politics. The study of their past history mortified 
their pride; the freedom of the British constitution excited their 
jealousy; and the want of a national theatre for the display of 
the national talent, roused all their vanity and ambition. They 
were then as brave in the field as the absence of all sense of 
danger could make them; as full of contempt for the royal au- 
thority as the sudden discovery of its impotence could inspire; 
and as resentful against the privileged classes as a long period 
of unhappy submission could render them. To provoke a great 
nation in such a mood might have been folly at any time; but, 
for the king to determine on mounting the high horse of 
Louis XIV. at the time he did, was little short of madness. The 
age was gone by in which the nation might have been pleased to 
arch its neck in "proud submission, or to curvet in graceful 
obedience to the check of the royal rein. It had now acquired 
a mettle, which, under the touch of the whip and spur, would be 
certain to bring down the giddy rider to the ground with all 
his weight of gothic armour around him. 

There is nothing more unjust than the practice which gener- 
ally prevails, of condemning all the public assemblies of France 
with indiscriminate severity. Before we consider the conduct 
therefore of the Legislative Assembly and of the Convention, let 
us review the acts of the National, or as it is more generally 
called. Constituent Assembly. It proclaimed universal tolera- 
tion in matters of religion, and thus made virtue the test of 
piety, and took away from hypocrisy the mask of truth — it ren- 
dered monastic seclusion obligatory only on the consciences of 
devotees, and thus relieved many from the intolerable hardship 
of being imprisoned for life, in spite of repentance. It abolished 
Lettres de Cachet^ and thus deprived the king of the power of 
exiling and ruining any individual; or of shutting him up for life 
in solitary confinement to gratify private resentment, or the 
persecuting caprice of any great man— it forbade the future use 
of torture, and thus deprived the amateurs of cruelty of all op- 
portunity of enjoying spectacles of agonj — it ordered a 11 crimi- 
nal prosecutions to be carried on in public, and thus stript prose- 



149 

cutors land false witnesses of the chance of perjuring themselves 
with impunity; whilst, by adopting the trial by jury, it secured 
to the accused, not only the probability of acquittal when inno- 
cent, but that most beautiful privilege of a British subject, the 
right of being presumed innocent until proved guilty. By esta- 
blishing the liberty of the press, it secured to truth an ultimate 
triumph over error, in spite of the abuse of that privilege which 
followed in the first hours of its fruition. By putting down the 
peculiar privileges of the noblesse, and by limiting the preroga- 
tives of the crown, it sought to preserve personal freedom. By 
exploding the whole system of monopoly, it revived industry, 
and by suppressing the motley group of provincial laws, (one of 
the relics of feudal barbarism) it opened the way for the esta- 
blishment of a regular tariff, and a general code of laws. By 
the division and sale of the great estates of the clergy and crown 
it brought them into cultivation, and rescued an immense body 
of people from a state of idleness which perpetuated their igno- 
rance. By arming the national guards or militia, it covered 
France with a shield, and by renouncing the right of conquest, 
it tried to take away from her neighbours all excuse for assailing 
her. 

Such, as far as I can learn from history and tradition, were the 
principal acts of the Constituent Assembly; and yet evidently 
rational and just as they were, they excited the indignation ol 
all the aristocrats of Europe. No innovation could be good in 
their eyes which did not proceed directly from the throne; and 
therefore they fell into the folly of condemning all those changes 
even fifteen years after an Empress of a people, comparatively 
barbarous, had abolished torture and proclaimed toleration over 
a dominion extending from the shores of the Baltic to the great 
wall of China. That the Constituent Assembly fell into some 
errors — that it hurried on too precipitately a change in the go- 
vernment — that it absurdly suffered the mob to applaud and hoot 
from its galleries — and that from an overweening apprehension 
of the tyranny from which the nation was then escaping, they 
omitted to take proper precautions against running into the op- 
posite extreme, is most true. But in order to judge correctly of 
the conduct of that assembly, it is necessary to transport one's 
mind back to the time when it acted; to remembei- the o;ricvance** 



150 

it had to redress, and to reflect how. natural it was for a people 
who had been oppressed for fourteen centuries, to endeavour, 
not only to secure the game whilst they had the lead in their own 
hands, but to be over jealous, after they had won it, of the power 
which circumstances made it prudent to leave to the crown and 
nobility. 

Although the French were neither sufficiently enlightened, nor 
sufiiciently virtuous, at the era of the revolution, to live under a 
pure republic; they had many men of great virtue and ability 
among them, who, if their plans had not been thwarted at first 
by the aristocrats, and blasted afterwards by the jacobins, might 
have succeeded in establishing a just and liberal form of govern- 
ment. — These were aware of the advantage of gliding instead of 
plunging a nation into liberty; and would have therefore selected 
for their country a sort of monarchical republic, in which, although 
the crown would have been hereditary, the minister would have 
been the real king, and possessed of sufficient power to control 
the licentiousness of a newly emancipated people. But unhap- 
pily the extreme inequality of rank and fortune had divided the 
population of France into two species, the lords of voluptuous- 
ness and the slaves of penury. From this division, flowed that 
stream of prejudice which drowned the generous efforts of the 
wise and the brave in favor of their country, and which finally 
overflowed for a time, her reason, her virtue, and her happiness. 
In vain did Neckar, and Mounier, and La Fayette, and a band of 
virtuous patriots exert themselves to bring about a cordial recon- 
ciliation between the king and the nation. The ultra royalists 
opposed, with irreconcilable activity, every scheme that pro- 
mised to be salutary or lasting, and thus created the counter- 
balancing faction of the jacobins, who openly declared that no 
reliance could be placed on the promises of the kino-, and that 
there was no safety for the nation but in the demolition of every 
pre existing institution. Thus, on the one hand, despotism sat 
brooding over Fiance like Milton's form of sin, fair and beauti- 
ful above, but foul and grovelling in her other half, whilst ever 
and anon around her howled hideously the curs of aristocracy. 
On the other hand rose the less distinguishable but more ghastly 
substance of jacobinism, which like the other shape of death, stood 
''black as night, fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, and shook 



151 

a dreadful dart." It was in vain that words of reconciliation 
and peace proceeded from the throne; it was in vain that the ac- 
cents of liberty and justice fell from the party of the righteous < 

they were all drowned by the hideous peal yelled out by those 
gigantic monsters. 

When the plan of a constitution came to be discussed, those 
discordant circumstances destroyed that pleasing harmony of 
opinion which had prevailed in the majority of the assembly in 
the beginning, and split it into three turbulent parties, which, 
as iEschylus said of the Gorgons, had but one eye between 
them. The moderate, or liberal party only made use of this, 
and notwithstanding some slight diversities of opinion which ex- 
isted in it, as to the extent to which reform should be carried, 
all concurred in desiring the regeneration of the state. The more 
cautious members of this party wished a simple reform of the 
abuses of the existing government, and thought that if the rava- 
ges of time and the encroachments of private interest on the pub- 
lic good were repaired, and some ameliorations made in its form 
it might still answer very well the purposes of France, and the 
genius of her people. The more sanguine members, however, 
opposed this patching up of the uncouth edifice of antiquity, and 
fancied they might demolish it at pleasure, and then build upon 
its foundations, and out of its materials, a new structure infi- 
nitely better adapted to the necessities of the nation. The fear- 
less presumption of inexperience, and the very natural appre- 
hension of the resilient propensities of the court to arbitrariness, 
caused this section of the liberal party to predominate. It would 
have been most easy, indeed, to have compromised these differ- 
ences of opinion to the advantage of the nation, if the high court 
party had been willing to consent to a rational reform; for as the 
National Assembly would have been then enabled to cut off the 
higher branches of prerogative and privilege with as much faci- 
lity as Tarquin struck off the heads of the tallest poppies in his 
garden, they might, whilst unexasperated by opposition, have 
been willing to let the remainder take root and flourish. But 
unluckily for the aristocrats themselves, and what was still more 
important, for the cause of liberty likewise, they refused to shel- 
ter themselves under a constitution like that of England, and 
voted against it with a spirit of irreconcilable hatred; or accord- 



152 

ing to Madame de Stael, "from the detestable calculation" of 
securing a return to despotism, by excess of evil. But let their 
motive have been what it may, they acted with unexampled folly; 
and by the rancour of their opposition, produced as much ruin 
as malevolence could have wished. By exasperating their oppo- 
nents they drove them to fall off from their allegiance to reason, 
and finally to embrace a scheme of government, which, however 
beautiful in theory, was wild, visionary and absurd when applied 
to a people so ignorant of the duties of freemen as the French 
then were. It was thus that the chance of establishing a fair 
constitution in France was first defeated by the fatuity of the 
orders, and afterwards lost by the delirium of the jacobins. In 
fact the old regime had nursed up so many prejudices in France, 
that the substitution of an equitable system of government for 
the existing one was impossible; for virtue, talent, and the right 
understanding of liberty, were incapable of wrestling against 
the spirit of faction which those prejudices had engendered, and 
which as the Abbe Sieyes expressed it ''now resolved to be free 
without knowing how to be just.'! How many woes might have 
be£n spared in this country — and how many sorrows to mankind, 
if those factions had been then sensible enough to bridle their pas- 
sions. "Mais helas! le genie de la France precipitoit la marche de 
Pesprit public." In the intoxication of vanity, the French im- 
agined themselves the wisest of nations. No one stopped to re- 
flect, that the faculties of the human mind are so limited by 
nature, that they cannot grow and expand themselves with- 
out cultivation, nor acquire much knowledge without expe- 
rience. The government had taken as little care of the political 
education of the people as the clergy had of their religious in- 
struction, so that they were pretty well void of respect for any 
law, human or divine. Those who doubt this fact, may examine 
for information, the savage equality which the French called 
liberty in the first years of the revolution, and the notions which 
the peasants in the neighbourhood of the metropolis entertained 
of a Creator, when, after the Convention acknowledged the ex- 
istence of a Supreme Being, they inscribed over their doors, 
''Vive lebon Dieu." 

Tlie great body of the French nation had no other idea of 
government at that time, than as an engine of oppression. When 



153 

mvited, therefore, to break their chains, they listened with most 
pleasure to those who ranted most violently about liberty or 
who flattered them with the most outrageous promises. In the 
beginning they might have been satisfied with little, if it had 
been freely given to them; but when they discovered that they 
had broken out of prison by the strength of their own hands, and 
were become lawgivers, they embraced anarchy to murder des- 
potism. They did not want a republic because they did not 
know what it was — all they wanted, was to domineer in their 
turn, and they did so most violently. How different was the 
conduct of the Americans when they rose to assert their liber- 
ties? As they had been educated in a healtliful respect for law- 
ful government, and a detestation of usurped authority alone, 
they comprehended what they asked for. Accordingly, when 
they perceived the measure of encroachment to be filling up for 
them, they rose in revolution, not to put down all government, 
but to limit its powers and define their boundaries. In France, 
the people never interfered directly in public affairs, until 
the government was dissolved; nor did they exercise any coer- 
cion over the new authorities, until the country was thrown into 
confusion by the rejection of the only form of government then 
suited to the circumstances of France. Three months were suf- 
fered to pass away, after the Bastile was taken and the powers 
of government suspended, without the adoption of any plan of 
policy to allay the distractions of the public mind; or to serve as 
a centre towards which the national enthusiasm might gravitate. 
Visionary schemes and empirical conceits— presumptuous asser- 
tions and ridiculous witticisms, were incessantly let loose to 
whip up the mob into commotion, and by the end of those three 
months all the heads of that Hydra that slept in Paris were 
awakened. Accordingly, in the month of October, 1789, it 
drew itself off from Paris to Versailles, for the purpose, as it ex- 
pressed, ''d'entourer Monsieur Louis Bourbon de bons pa- 
triots;" and there, like the serpent of Laocoon, it entwined it- 
self around the king and the National Assembly, nor ever 
released them from the folds of its fraternal hug, until every 
symptom of life was extinguished. 

One might imagine, that after the court had been thus dragged 
to Paris, the aristocrats would have seen the weakness of their 



154f 

cause, and have been reconciled to the loss of their privileges 
and the establishment of a limited monarchy. If they were too 
much puffed up with vain-glorious ambition to discover the expe- 
diency of this step themselves, they might have found an useful les- 
son on the subject in their favourite Machiavel — if not in their text 
book, his Prince, at leastin a better part of his works ,his Commen- 
tary on Livy. Among other things they might have there learned 
how absurdly those who prefer establishing a despotism before a 
republic or limited monarchy, throw away renown, honour, secu- 
rity, and peace of mind, for infamy, shame, vituperation, dan- 
ger, and inquietude. "Ne si auvegono per questo partito 
quanta fama, quanta gloria, quanto honore, sicurta, quiete, con 
satisfajgione d'animo et fuggono, et in quanta infamia, vituperio, 
biasimo, pericolo et inquietudine incorrono." 

The aristocrats and the jacobins who occupied the extreme 
right and the extreme left of the Assembly, were a majority of 
the Chamber; and although they bitterly detested each other, 
they often concurred and voted together from the impulses of 
revenge on the one part, and the calculations of malice on the 
other. The rash conduct of these factions paralyzed the go- 
vernment, so that it fell defenceless into the arms of the popu- 
lace, and had no alternative left but to fall backwards into ty- 
ranny, or plunge forward into anarchy. This happened at a 
time, too, when every fresh evidence of the impotence of the 
fallen government rendered the rising throughout the kingdom 
more general and more terrific. There are no people, I believe, 
more amiable and forgiving than the French — certainly none 
who are more easily ruled, if their governors catch the drift of 
their vanity; but it must be admitted, at the same time, that 
they are endowed with a mercurial vivacity of temper, which is 
peculiarly apt to transport them beyond the bounds of modera- 
tion. They had suffered too much to revolt with temperance, and 
their conduct in the first hours of their triumph proved the truth 
of the maxim, that ''la violence de la revolte est toujours en 
proportion de I'injustice de Pesclavage." 



LETTER VIII. 

Paris^ Feb. 25th, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

When the executive branch of the government in France was 
broken down and the legislative had fallen into the hands of the 
Parisian mob, there remained *but few hopes for the liberties of 
the country. The characteristic feature of all classes in this me- 
tropolis is an omnivorous passion for novelty; and when the Con- 
stituent Assembly had done so much as in reason and sound 
judgment it ought to have done, it was still obliged to go on to 
gratify this guilty appetite for change. The hall of a delibera- 
tive Senate was converted into the arena of a polemic ammthe- 
atre, whose boxes were filled with a furious and ferocious rab- 
ble, that adjudged the prize of popularity, not to the eloquent 
and the just, not to the virtuous and the wise, but to the un- 
principled and the turbulent, who flattered their vanity by gau- 
dy eulogiums, or who justified their wickedness by preposterous 
epigrams. As yet, however, the party of the jacobins was but a 
feeble minority, and although it was augmented by all, whom the 
love of applause could estrange from duty, or the fear of popular 
resentment bias from principle, it could never have usurped the 
government of this great nation, if the privileged orders would 
have joined the friends of rational liberty, or have ceased to in- 
flame and agitate the public by attacks against the new order of 
things But although the judgment of the higher orders was as 
usual on political subjects in the rear of common sense, they had 
sagacity enough to know that the quarry was sometimes lost by 
over-running. They therefore calculated, that by hurrying on 
the torrent of revolution with unprincipled velocity, they might 
create an eddy in the stream, and that by embracing that oppor- 
tune moment t© bring in foreign troops, they mij^ht produce a 



156 

counter current, and thus recover every thing which had been 
swept away. 

Their attachment to the privileges they had inherited was ex- 
tremely natural, but their perseverance in applauding the old 
reo-ime, which, in their minds, time had rendered venerable and 
submission sacred, was as absurd as it was impolitic. For, un- 
questionably, this pretended constitution of France, during thir- 
teen or fourteen centuries, is the merest chimera that ever 
amused the imagination of a political sophist. A royal authority 
always existed, it is true, but in a state of perpetual vacillation be- 
tween the submission to law and the indulgence of caprice. To 
say that in the earlier ages of her history, under the Merovin- 
gian and Carlovingian Princes, the government was a represen- 
tative and limited monarchy, and that despotic power was gra- 
dually usurped by the houses of Valois and Bourbon, is not 
enough, although this fact alone might sanction the beautiful ob- 
servation of Madame de Stael, that it is liberty which is ancient, 
and despotism that is modern in France. In fact, the govern- 
ment of this country was perpetually varied by the personal cha- 
racter of its monarchs, scarcely any one of whom ever reigned 
after the fashion of his predecessor, so that a multitude of con- 
stitutions, more or less rude, absurd, and infamous, have, at 
different periods, fallen to its lot.* Even in the year of 1788, 
the laws all over France were presented on the point of the bay- 
onet, and the carriers charged with the publication of a royal 
order, were sometimes in danger of their lives. 

I fear, however, I shall provoke your patience by a too fre- 
quent recurrence to the abuses of the old regime; but there is no 
other mode of effectually vindicating the spirit of liberty against 
the foul aspersions which have been cast on it, but by ferreting 
out the causes of the revolutionary crimes, and exhibiting them 
to view. My object is to hold up to you a faithful picture of 
the political disorders of the time; of the chaos of royal, feudal, 
clerical and judicial usurpations, and to ask, whether, if you 
were to transport yourself back to the year '89, and forget the 
events which have warped your judgment, you would not think 
the Constituent Assembly had strong reason to throw this crude 

' See Les Constitutions des tous les peuples par le Comte Lanjuinais. 



157 

mass of ore into the crucible of revolution, and melt it down 
to* its proper standard. If the feudalists and jacobins threw 
dross into the political mint, and debased the pure metal by a 
vile alloy, it is certainly unjust to attribute its worthlessness to 
the friends of rational reform. That some of the later acts of 
that assembly were rash and impolitic, I do not pretend to deny, 
but no man, I think, can look dispassionately into these very 
acts without seeing that it was dragged into them by a chain of 
invincible circumstances, every link of which had been forged in 
the furnace of despotism. Believe me, my dear sir, the belief 
that the government of France was broken down by the spirit of 
liberty, and that the assemblies which accomplished its ruin, 
were composed of republicans, is the falsest vision that was ever 
conjured up in the brain of distempered and designing politicians 
to impose on the credulity ot mankind. The nation was tired of 
oppression, and was resolved to get rid of it. Take the leaders 
of each party that raised the cry of discontent; examine them in 
detail, and show me the republioans among them. One half of 
the Constituent Assembly consisted of nobles and priests, who 
were essentially anti-republican from interest and habit, and but 
a fraction of whom was disposed to limit at all the prerogatives 
of the crown. The representatives of the Tiers Etat were una- 
nimous in favour of reformation, but divided in opinion as to the 
extent to which it should be carried. The larger party of them 
marched under the banner of Mirabeau, who was, we know, 
neither a republican in practice nor in theory; who, in spite of 
the intemperance into which his abhorrence of tyranny and his 
projects of ambition led him, was a resolute admirer of dignity 
in the crown, and whose eloquence would have been exerted if 
he had lived beyond the month of April, '91, in defending it. 
The more moderate reformers, the friends of Mr. Neckar;. 
the Mouniers, the Maluets, the Lanjuinais, the Lally Tollen- 
dals, &c. were the admirers of the British constitution, and the 
advocates of its adoption in France. The remainder of the As- 
sembly consisted of a small corps of jacobins, who detested re- 
publicanism as sincerely as they did royalty; who voted on all 
occasions from the calculations of self-interest; who were, what 
St. John called the Pharisees, a generation of vipers, and whose 
tongues, if they had not been envenomed by the rancorous hos- 

21 



158 

tility of the Oligarchists, would never have grown into suJB&cient 
strength to pierce and empoison the heart of the nation. Before 
the Constituent Assembly reached the day fixed for its dissolu- 
tion, the 30th of Sept, 1791, it was sufficiently evident, that the 
inhabitants of France neither approved the malignant projects 
of the jacobins, nor the revengeful schemes of the feudalists; and 
therefore these two factions united to render the members of the 
present assembly ineligible to the next, and speciously covered 
under the veil of disinterestedness their malicious hypocrisy. I 
do not know whether there was most of insanity or wickedness 
ill this resolution. To expel any set of men from the legislature of 
any country, for no other reason but their experience in that depart- 
ment, would be unjust; but for a country like this, in which the sci- 
ence of legislation was so new, that twelve hundred citizens only 
had devoted anytime to the study and practice of the art of gov- 
ernment, to exclude those very men, and those only, from her coun- 
cils, was the lieight of political folly. It was to declare experi- 
ence and knowledge detrimental in judging of the aptitude of a 
nation to a new system of laws— it was to proclaim the exercise 
of legislation the easiest of all trades; and this is what I believe 
no man, in his right senses, could have done, unless blinded by 
the falsest enthusiasm, or actuated by the craftiest revenge. 

When the Legislative Assembly met, it turned out therefore 
exactly as might have been expected. Being composed of men 
perfectly raw and undisciplined in the tactics of government, 
it was animated by an ambition to rival its predecessor in the 
rashness of its innovations, and the splendour of its achieve- 
ments. Hence, as there remained no more aged and cankered 
branches to be cut oft' from the tree of state, the resolution 
was taken of laying the axe into the very root of it; not for the 
purpose of nourishing its good parts, of causing the blossoms of 
republicanism to shoot forth and to bear their clusters, but from 
that selfish improvidence which makes the Indian fell the tree 
to gather the fruit. Thus this Assembly ruined every thing; so 
that, when the Convention assembled two years afterwards, it 
found the work of demolition so nearly completed, that it ga- 
thered up the fruit into its own hands, and found it to be like 
the apple of Sodom, fair and beautiful without, but rottenness 
and bitterness at the core. You may take these three assem- 



159 

blies in succession, and analyze the principles of all the majori- 
ties that ruled them, and I defy you to show that any one of 
them was composed of real republicans. That a small corps of 
republicans existed, is most true: the noble and eloquent Verg- 
niauds, and Condorcets, and Guadets, with the small minority of 
the Gironde, were m^n of that description. But the Jacobins 
broke in among them, like the fiery serpents among the people 
of Israel. It was in vain that the ea^le was held up, as Moses 
held up his serpent of brass, to save the people that looked on 
it; — the hissing monsters hood-winked the symbol of liberty with 
the bonnet rouge, (the badge of the freedman,) and hence "much 
of the people died." These Jacobins pretended, it is true, to put 
on for a inoment the livery of republicanism, and they wore the 
mask as long as it suited their purposes, for although they loved 
despotism truly, they loved rt best in their own persons. When 
tkerefore, under the Convention, the committee of public safety 
grasped all power into its own hands, all those who had virtue 
enough to possess sentiments really republican, were outlawed 
with a wilder ferocity than the proudest aristocrats. In the 
reign of terror which followed, many of the latter moved un- 
hurt through the dance of death, but scarcely any one of the 
former escaped the carnage. 

But as we shall hereafter have cause to observe the consistent 
hostility ot the Jacobins to every scheme of good government, 
ever proposed in France, let us now return from this digression 
to the causes which raised the hurricane so h"gh as to blow 
down the whole structure of society in this kingdom. The 
equivocal conduct of the court, by creating a general distrust 
of its sincerity, was one of the most powerful of these- The 
king and his counsellors seem to have never reflected on 
the truth of a remark of a high prerogative writer, in his book 
on Casuistry, that ''the people are all kings when they choose;"* 
nor do they appear to have remembered that there is nothing so 
fatal to an impotent government as a suspicion of its hypocriti- 
cal acquiescence in what it has not the power to reject. Confi- 
dence is like a bird in the hand, for if you once let it go, you 
can seldom catch it again. Now, from the moment that the 
Emigres united themselves with the armies of Austria and Prus- 

* Jcr. Tuvlor. 



160 

sia, (July, 1792,) and in the name, and by the authority of the 
king,* were seen on the plains of Champagne in full march to 
overset the new constitution, the public mind became so alarmed 
that all belief of the possibility of maintaining, under Louis 
XVI. both internal liberty, and national independence, was lost. 
Nor can it be denied, that the circumstances of the times were 
Strong; enough to justify this fatal suspicion, and to suggest even 
the unavailing absurdity of holding the royal family as hostages 
for the good behaviour of the allies. But if, when the French 
abolished monarchy, (Sept. 1792,) they had been either wise, or 
fit for liberty, they would have disburthened themselves of the 
royal family by their immediate exile, since their confinement in 
France could only serve to fire the torch of discord at home, 
and to throw a false light on the sinister designs of their own 
enemies abroad. The arrest of the king at Varennes, in his 
flight out of France, (June, 1791,) was for this reason a public 
calamity, and led afterwards to the effusion of much of the best 
blood in the kingdom. Among those who subsequently voted 
for his detention and imprisonment, many were actuated by a 
belief of its expediency; some by the love of popularity; and a 
few by motives of malignity. Unhappily for the French, they 
had been so long accustomed to regard royalty with dread, that 
thev could not be brought to believe it, in any instance, a mere 
phantom of terror; nor be convinced that a clandestine union of 
the court with the foreign enemies of France, would, so far from 
increasing its strength, act like the perfidy of Delilah, and shear 
off the locks of its power. 

The evident fondness, too, with which the king leaned on the 
side of the nobles in preference to that of the people, exaspera- 
ted the jealousy of the latter, and abated the ardour of their 
loyalty; for the hatred of the French was much stronger against 
aristocracy than royalty. This passion was vehement from the 
beginning, and yet grew stronger as the revolution advanced. — 
The first, or Constituent Assembly, was split into three factions, 
the aristocrats, the constitutionalists, and the mountain or jaco- 
bins; but the second, or Legislative Assembly, was divided into 
constitutionalists, republicans, and jacobins— and the Conven- 
tion consisted only of a few republicans, called Girondists, and 

* See Letters and Memoirs of his Minister, Bertrand de Moleville. 



161 

the Jacobins. Yet, not with standing the factious divisions of the." 
two former, the three first years of the revolution were tolera- 
bly promising. If the rage of demolition had then given w&y 
to the taste for reconstruction; if the French had then been con- 
tent with casting off <=Hhe old and wrinkled skin of corruption," 
instead of getting "'drunk with blood to vomit crime," would 
not all the w^orld have now hailed their revolution as the most 
prosperous accident that ever turned up in the long course of 
ages to promote the haj^piness of mankind? Would not those 
assemblies, for the energy with which they braved every peril, 
be now universally applauded, instead of being exposed to the 
contumelious snarlings of those who love to libel liberty? But 
these political Incurables will never admit that the revolution 
found the French corrupted to its hand, and therefore it may 
not be amiss to recall a few historical recollections, which may 
throw a little light on the subject. 

Marmontel relates, in his memoirs, that Chamfort observed to 
him, in 1789, ''that the love of money and the wish of pillage, 
were all powerful among the people; that the experiment had 
been tried in the faubourg St. Antoine, and that it had cost the 
Duke of Orleans a mere trifle to induce the Canaille to pull 
down the manufactory of Reviellon, at the time he was support- 
ing one hundred of their families." It was, I think, Mirabeau 
who observed about the same time, that "with one thousand louis 
d'ors he could raise an insurrecticai; that the mass of the naiion 
was a flock too much stinted to think of any thing but grazing, 
and quite ready to follow any dogs or shepherds that might 
come among them." In addition to these theoretical sugges- 
tions, there are a few facts on record. I would ask whether the 
tearing to pieces of the first victims of popular fury, in the Pa- 
lais Roval, in '89; — ^whether the conflagrations at that time in 
the provinces; the burning of old men in Normandy; the dissec- 
tion of Barras, &c. in Languedock, can be attributed by even 
the craziest apostles of despotism to republicanism? No! the 
spirit of liberty did never yet so harden the hearts of men, as 
to make humanity be looked on as weakness, and a ferocious 
intolerance pass for patriotism. Among a free people, such 
crimes as those I have alluded to, would inspire universal 
horror. 



16S 

The living under a free government inspires sentiments of 
moral dignity into the mass of the nation; whilst it raises up prin- 
ciples of justice in their minds, and teaches them to respect the 
laws, from which they derive protection; but arbitrary govern- 
ment, on the contrary inculcates a respect for power above right, 
and gives the subject no other idea of government, than of a ma- 
chine of force, for the purpose, not of protecting, but of ruling 
mankind. Was it the nation educated under the commonwealth, 
and enslaved by Ceesar and Augustus, or was it the race which 
grew up under the wing of their tyranny, that rendered Rome the 
opprobrium of nations? Was it not, as was said by Milton, only- 
after intellectual servitude, had prepared the way for political, 
and after Rome had been some time enchained and debased by 
despotism, that she fell under the dominion of a set of odious mon- 
sters and grew rich in depravity? If the explosion of the revolu- 
tion discovered a hidden rottenness in a part of the French nation, 
that rottenness was produced by the deleterious shade of arbitrary 
power alone. A short enjoyment of the suoshisie of liberty would 
have healed the canker, and preserved the timbers of the state 
from decay. But the idea of liberty in France was clouded. The 
nation was so accustomed to absolute power, that it had no con- 
ception of a government without it, and therefore when they took 
away despotic power from the king, they gave it to the mob, and 
called that, liberty. They acted like the fool, who because his 
hands were frozen, thrust them into the fire to be thawed, and 
they paid dearly enough for their folly. 

The crimes of the French revolution grew out of the excitement 
produced in corrupt minds, by foreign war and domestic treason. 
If the privileged orders, instead of absconding into foreign coun- 
tries, to rouse their hostility against France, had generously con- 
sented, even as late as '91 to the sacrifices, without which a free 
government could not be established in this country, a tolerably 
well balanced constitution might then have been formed, and the 
nation saved from the tyranny of the Jacobins. It is a great mistake 
to suppose that the vision of republicanism ever really enchanted 
this people; they wanted to get rid of wiiat they had, and to do so, 
they flew to what "they knew not of." Even the men who in the 
close of '92 abolished monarchy, were yet a while convinced that 
the nation was not fit for a republic, and felt that the spirit of a 



163 

constitution ought to be infused into a people, before its laws 
could be expected to correct and restrain them. A harlequin or 
merry Andrew cannot put on with becoming decency, the habili- 
ments of a gentleman, and the law which commanded such a 
one to assume the airs of good breeding, must become the mere 
dead letter of decorum. 

It is only after the passions of men are violently excited that 
they can believe a political metamorphosis more easy and natural 
than a personal one, or such as are amusingly feigned by the poets; 
nor can they otherwise imagine the countenance of freedom which 
is assumed by the freedman of yesterday, any thing more than 
the mask of liberty, put on to conceal his natural expression of 
servility. Although the revolutions of nations afford us many ex- 
amples of the re-establishment of freedom, by a people who had 
lost it, but who retained its spirit, together with the memory of 
the blessings it bestowed on their ancestors, yet they do not per- 
haps afford a single instance of a people that have suddenly suc- 
ceeded in establishing a free government after living for ages un- 
der a despotism. Every great political change, in order to be 
good and lasting, should be gradual, for nothing but time and 
education can lift up the apprehensions of a whole nation to a just 
understanding of free goverment. Abrupt alterations may be em- 
braced with ardour by the public imagination, but can never find 
the national character prepared to receive them; and no govern- 
ment can be harmonious in action, unless its principles be in 
unison with those of the people it is intended to protect. Hence 
whenever the government, for which a nation rises in rebellion, 
is so discordant with its character as to cause the dressing of 
scaffolds and the shedding of human blood, its adoption seldom or 
never turns out to any immediate good. In Rome the tyranny 
of the Tarquins led to liberty, not after their execution, but after 
their simple expulsion. The conspiracy against that of Cfesar on 
the contrary, began in blood and ended in despotism. In Switzer- 
land the companions of Tell took an oath to be just towards their 
enemies; and when they resolved to drive their myrmidon op- 
pressors out of their country, they resolved to do it if possible, 
without hurting a hair of their heads; and we all know of the 
prosperity and happiness of that country after the change. The 
Dutch when they rose, did not demand the blood of Philip to 



164 

avenge their wrongs; but such was their spirit, that although lie 
was extremely powerful, and waged with great wrath an iniqui- 
tous war against them, he was never able to break down the spirit 
of resistance in Holland. The English in the rebellion changed 
their government, by taking off the head of their king, as well as 
that of his minister; they fell under the tyranny of a Protector, 
and their struggle for liberty ended in the restoration of absolute 
monarchy. They began their revolution in a spirit of wiser pa- 
triotism, and therefore instead of spilling the blood of James II., 
and thus exciting a sympathy for royalty, they sent him over into 
France, to enjoy his principles where he had imbibed them; and 
after his departure established the most rational government in 
Europe. The Americans were roused into revolution by the claim 
on the part of the king and parliament of Great Britain to tax 
them; they never imagined that the taste of blood could be re- 
freshing to the palates of freemen, and their struggle for indepen- 
dence, ended in the establishment of a government purely repub- 
lican, which has now existed near half a century, without having 
had occasion to erect a scaffold for a traitor. How far the obser- 
vation of this tranquil scene of government, in which a nation 
enjoys perfect freedom, without regret for the past, or inquie- 
tude for the future, may excite the rivalship of other nations and 
teach them moderation in pursuit of liberty, time only can deter- 
mine. 

The French began their revolution by opening some of the slui- 
ces of blood; — they soon became the puppets of the veriest mon- 
ster that ever disgraced mankind, and plunged along witti him 
into a sea of it: — they had no sooner reached a resting place, than 
they were assailed by the inclement blasts of a second Directory, — 
and to shelter themselves from these, they yoked their destinies 
to the ambition of a desp«t, who after bleaching the fields of Eu- 
rope with their bones, and conducting them twice through the 
Gaudine forks, left them at last at the mercy of their ancient go- 
vernors. Thus was France led astray in every stage of her revolu- 
tion by folly; and after racing fantastically round the circleof ab- 
surd constitutions, she is now pretty much where she was in the 
autumn of '89. The knowlege she has gained of the ground over 
which she has passed, is to be sure a great advantage; for there 
is reason to believe that the scorching she got in the perihelium 



165 

of her revolutionary orbit from Jacobinism, and the freezing she 
met with in the aphelion from tyranny, will produce a wiser ba- 
lancing of her centrifugal and centripetal tendencies hereafter, 
and give her in her future career a steadier and a juster motion. 

I am inclined to believe that the execution of the royal family 
of France, has done more injury to the cause of republicanism, 
than all the other atrocities of the jacobins put together. The dis- 
proportion of their punishment to their offence, and the opportu- 
nity which it gave them of displaying their fortitude and piety 
to the greatest advantage, have not only obliterated the remem- 
brance of their errours, but enlisted the sympathies of mankind, 
more in behalf of royalty than the recollection of all the virtues of 
all the monarchs that ever governed France. The respect and pity 
which were awakened by the spectacle of all that was illustrious 
[n rank, and amiable in private life, in the last stage of humilia- 
tion; and the contempt and abhorrence which were excited by the 
brutal cruelty of their oppressors, became unjustly attached to the 
causes which the parties respectively represented. No argument 
converts so fast as the blood of martyrs; and thus the aristocrats 
of France, like the cavaliers in England, drew their advantage 
from the royal suffering. 

It is not necessary to run further back into antiquity, nor to 
dive deeper into the obscurity of other modern revolutions, to 
support the position that political changes, beginning in blood, 
are for a time, at least, disastrous. There are living examples of 
the fact before our eyes. That^of St. Domingo began nearly thirty 
years ago in crime, and has exhibited every deformity of injus- 
tice and tyranny. It is now more than ten years since South 
America became convulsed by a struggle for liberty — since the 
spirit of faction stained its infancy with blood; and yet we do not 
find any one of those nations settled down under the administra- 
tion of a wise government. The late rising in Spain was accom- 
plished with such imposing gravity and moderation, that it looks 
like the spontaneous soaring of patriotism, inspired by a noble 
spirit of independence. But if her late violent contest with France, 
which partook of the character of a civil war, did not fatigue her 
public with confusion, and create an abhorrence of bloodshed, 
the change may be too sudden to pass off without convulsions. 

22 



166 

When a people be|2;in a revolution by shedding blood, it is a 
sign they are corrupt. The extinction of a whole royal family may 
be an offering to vengeance, but it is no guarantee to liberty. 
When Caligula and Nero and the whole race of the Cffisars were 
dead, the Eagle of the republic still remained unplumed. The 
spirit of faction only loves cruelty, for that of liberty delights in 
mercy. Although the one is an angel, and the other a fiend > 
they are apt to present themselves together to a nation, and ac- 
cording as she embraces the one or the other for her tutelary ge- 
nius, is she prosperous or miserable. The spirit of liberty sets 
herself about to charm and to inspire — but that of faction attempts 
to drive and to bully— the former is gentle and firm, but the lat- 
ter is turbulent and trumpet-mouthed; and as the voice of a sten- 
tor pleases best a depraved understanding, less accustomed to 
consult its reason than its passions, the latter is apt to be pre- 
ferred by a newly emancipated people. I do not believe there is 
a wiser or a truer observation in all MachiavePs writings, than 
that in which he speaks of the incapacity of such a people to dis- 
tinguish the measures which assail, from those which defend its 
liberties. Such a people, says he, are like a wild beast trained up 
in confinement, and whose natural ferocity has been tamed by 
imprisonment. When by chance such a beast has got loose into 
the fields he is incapable of procuring himself nourishment, or of 
finding a den to shelter himself; and thus becomes a prey to the 
first hands that cunningly seek to put irons on him. Such was the 
case exactly with the French. Vv hen they had broken loose and 
torn their monarchy nearly down, neither a Dion, nor a Timoleon, 
nor a Marcus Aurelius, could have satisfied them as a king, nor 
have held the balance of justice in equilibrium. And afterwards, 
when they had trampled down the last vestige of royal preroga- 
tive and aristocratic privilege, neither the virtues of an Epami- 
nondas,nor a Tully, nor a Washington, could have been strong 
enough to shut them out from the temple of discord. In fact, men 
accusromed to submission grow indocile and insolent in prosper- 
ity, iike the lacquey who having drawn a prize in a lottery, slap- 
ped the face of the first gentleman he met. The tree of liberty, 
saui iiarrere, " can never iiourish, till it is watered by the blood 
of a king." 



167 

Nothing is so difficult as to turn a people inured to certain 
habits, out of their old way of acting and thinking. Th^ inha- 
bitants of Rome still carry their children, when m dan<i;er from 
sickness, to the chapel, which stands on the spot where they 
fancy Romulus and Remus to have been exposed and saved; the 
Greeks are still said to have the Pyrrhic dance; and I remember, 
when in the mountains of Killarney, in Ireland, to have been 
struck at seeing the peasants dance the identical jig which is still 
preserved after the lapse of two centuries, by the descendants of 
Lord Baltimore's colonists, in the south of Maryland. 

Good morals are always necessary for the faithful execution 
of good laws; and although the former always flourish in the 
end under the latter, it is absurd to imagine, as the French did, 
that a panoply of good laws spread over the land, had the mira- 
culous power of instantly creating good morals, as the mantle 
of Elijah conveyed the gift of prophecy. The vanity of a French- 
man, however, endows him with a certain self-gratulating com- 
placency of mind, which not only prevents his believing any 
other nation as good as his own, but reconciles him to every 
thing around him; and hence I heard a gentleman, a few days 
since, contend that "France was too enlightened to be free." 
Men of this stamp have, I believe you will readily admit, about 
as rational an idea of liberty as Mr. Locke's blind man, who 
fancied that scarlet resembled the sound of a trumpet, had of 
colours. 

When the national Convention embraced the resolution of 
establishing a republic in France, the manner in which they 
organized it was an unequivocal symptom of their ignorance 
of the true nature of such a government. A republic, "One 
and Indivisible,'^ over an immense territory, inhabited by 
twenty-five millions of recently enfranchised people, of dissimi- 
lar customs and laws, and I may almost add language, is a form 
of government which never had, and never can have any sta- 
bility or duration. Scarcely any municipal regulation can apply 
with equal propriety to the opposite extremes of such a commu- 
nity. An act which might be both just and salutary in its ap- 
plication to a provincial town in the plains of Belgium, or on 
the banks of the Rhine, might be most pernicious in its opera- 
tion on one situated on the borders of the Alps, or along the 



168 

shores of the bay of Biscay. Besides, it is impossible for any 
one legislative body to watch over the grand interests of such a 
nation, and to find leisure to attend to the multifarious wants, 
and In fling necessities of each particular parish. I know it may 
be asked with seeming plausibility, why a body of national 
representatives is not as competent to perform all this, as the 
ministry of an absolute monarch? But besides that there is a 
much greater dispatch of business in a small and irresponsible 
junto than in a public assembly, where discussion consumes time, 
I think the difficulty is much increased by the disposition of the 
people themselves; for the subjects of absolute monarchs, who 
know reclamation to be fruitless, submissively acquiesce in in- 
numerable hardships, petty grievances and restrictions, against 
any one of which, the citizens of a republic would clamour very 
violently You may oppose to this suggestion the republic of 
America, which exists over a much larger territory that this of 
France; but you should hold in mind that we have, independent 
of our Congress, some four and twenty State Legislatures, Ex- 
ecutives, and Judiciaries, for the transaction of local business; 
so that none but affairs of magnitude, or of general interest, 
are brought before the Congress, President, and Judges of the 
Union. Perhaps the average duration of the session of each of 
these bodies is near three months in the year, and that of Con- 
gress five, so that if there was but one parliament in America, 
it would be necessary for it to set the whole year, and that the 
year should consist of seventy-six months, in order that the 
claims of every individual might be heard, and the general in- 
terest attended to. 

It was not until after the difference of opinion between Ber- 
trand de Moleville, and Narbonne, (on the propriety of confer- 
ring with the committee,) had dissolved the constitutional min- 
istry in 1792, that the republican party came into power in the 
persons of Roland and Claviere. This party, which was known 
by the name of the Gironde, because its principal members came 
from Bordeaux, was fully sensible of the advantages of a fede- 
ral republic; and for this reason alone, could not, in the actual 
state of the public mind in France, be considered as affording 
sage counsellors to the king. But whatever may have been the 
errors or extravagancies into which it fell from a sanguine tem- 



109 

perament of mind highly intiamed by an enthusiasm for liberty- 
whatever may have been the visionary hopes and schemes with 
which the delightful indubitability of inexperience inspired it, 
I believe there are now none— no, not even the most ferocious 
libellers of republicanism, who do not acquit it of any guiltiness 
of design. I know that it has been fashionable in some coun- 
tries — I would willingly forget that it had ever been so in mine 

to confound these virtuous federal republicans with the savage 
herd of cannibals that afterwards devoured them. The youno- 
and splendid Vergniaud, in whose character there was some- 
thing of "the vast and the unbounded;" the brilliant and accom- 
plished Condorcet, with the intelligent and enthusiastic Brissot, 
and all those republicans who attempted in vain to interpose 
the shield of mercy between the king and his vindictive assail- 
ants, have been classed with the monstrous Marat, the ferocious 
Robespierre, the malignant St. Just, and, if possible, the still 
more frantically cruel Collot D'Herbois, and Billaud Varennes. 
The French, as Duclos once said, feel without thinking, act 
without reflecting, and propose without resolving; and hence a 
phrase has often been more efficacious in raising up or putting 
down a party among them than the strongest reasoning in the 
world. Now this nation never comprehended the true nature of 
a federal republic; and as the erection of several states looked 
like the division of the kingdom, which did not fall in at all with 
its schemes of greatness, the cry of a republic, ''one and indivi- 
sible," sent the federalists to the guillotine. I am far, however, 
from thinking that every excess would have been avoided by the 
adoption of a federal government; for the situation of France of- 
fered some difficulties in the way of its establishment. To have 
erected the provinces into republics would have been absurd in 
the extreme. They were too large and powerful. They had 
been held together by the compressing weight of despotism, but 
would have fallen asunder when bound only by laws. They had 
too respectively preserved their ancient usages and habits, and 
having been restrained from a free intercourse with one another, 
were of course full of local prejudices. These circumstances 
would have caused discord and dissention, instead of harmony 
and union, to prevail among them; and they must have finally 
split into independent states, hostile and destructive to the 



170 

peace and good order of one another, or fallen under the yoke 
of their foreign enemies. Even under the self-styled republic, 
such as it was, "one and indivisible," the danger of allowing 
such large provinces to remain entire, was so imminent, that the 
division of the country into eighty-three departments was one 
of the wisest and happiest conceptions of the new government; 
althougii it must be confessed, the refusal to call them after 
the capital city of each, (which would hare so much facilitated 
the recollection of their names) indicated as stupid a fear of 
federalism, as the grating, dissonant names, which were se- 
lected for them, gave evidence of a poverty of invention. 
A\hen one looks at the miserable appellations adopted in France 
and at the still more stupid custom which prevails in America, 
ot substituting for the fine sonorous words of the Aborigines, 
the names ot places in Europe, and of giving the same name 
to a dozen difterent places, one is almost disposed to ques- 
tion the inventive genius of the moderns. 

It was not, however, by the territorial division of the kingdom 
of France irsto departments of an equal number of square leagues, 
but by dividing it as Mirabeau recommended, into proportions 
nearly equal in population, wealth, and importance, that the 
collection of taxes and the administration of justice could have 
been properly facilitated. Nature had created an almost insur- 
mountable obstacle to a mathematical and ideal division, by the 
fertility she had given to the soil in some parts, and the sterility 
in others; nor did habit and circumstances oppose a less formida- 
ble barrier against it; for infinite inconvenience resulted from 
cuttino- up neighbourhoods without regard to towns, roads, and 
water courses. A judicious division, with due attention to den- 
sity of population and fertility of soil, might have mingled the 
heterop-eneous members of the state together and melted them 
dawn into one mass, so as to prevent the danger of dismember- 
ment. But when statesmen forget the excellence of moderation, 
and act with the desperate precipitancy of mad empirics, wc 
ono-ht not to be surprised at their throwing their patient into con* 
vul&ions by the boldness of their operations. Young politicians 
are naturally sanguine and full of confidence; they chase with 
eagerness the phantoms of their own brain; are deaf to the re- 
monstrances of wisdom, and are only tamed» in their aspirations 



II 



171 

-after chang-e, by the disappointments of experience. Unfortu- 
nately for France, such were all her leading politicians, or they 
would have perceived that any other than a federal republic in their 
country must necessarily sting itself, like the scorpion, to death. 
Had each of the departments been given a legislature, an executive 
and judiciary, for its local concerns; and had a general govern- 
ment been created to superintend the general interests of the 
empire; for the embodying an uniform code of laws, the regula- 
tion of commerce, and the encouragement of manufactures; the 
opening of roads and the cutting of canals, together with the sole 
power of making war, and organizing the army and navy, what 
a world of trouble might have been spared this distracted peo- 
ple, and what innumerable blessings might their success have 
secured to mankind! The National Assembly might have be- 
come, in this case, the lever of Archimedes in politics, and 
Paris the centre of motion. The centrifugal tendency of no de- 
partment, could have interrupted its swing, since no one would 
have been heavy enough to imjjede the momentum of the whole, 
and the independence of each would have eloigned the danger of 
a factious coalition. These departmental governments would 
have been schools of free principles, to rear up the young men to 
the exercise of republican duties, and sharpen their abdities; at 
the same time, they would have been so many jealous eyes 
watching over the preservation of the public liberty, and con- 
trolling the accidental errors of one another. It would be extra- 
vagant to suppose, that the adoption of this system would have 
prevented all the iniquities which followed, but that it would 
have prevented many of them, there is no doubt. It was dis- 
dainfully rejected, however, by the Parisian mob, and in conse- 
quence of this, the only breath of freedom which this nation 
drew during live and twenty years of revolution, was perhaps 
in those intervals in which she was bounding from one despotism 
'to another. 



LETTER IX. 

Paris^ March 11 /A, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

It was in the summer of 1792, that the clubs of Paris took 
the administration of the government entirely into their own 
hands; and it is certainly unfair to condemn the whole French 
nation for the atrocity of the crimes which they perpetrated. 
Among these cljubs, that which met in the ancient convent of 
the Jacobins, and which triumphed over all the others, was ani- 
mated by the soul of vengeance and rapine — that of the Corde- 
liers was inflamed by a spirit of still more brutal ferocity, and 
that of the Societe Fraternelle, exhaled only such an odour as 
might be expected to arise from the dregs of creation. Their 
liberty was despotism, their religion was blasphemy, and their 
pastime massacre. By the slaughter of the Swiss guards on the 
10th of August, and the demand for a Convention which fol- 
lowed it, they announced to the world their assumption of abso- 
lute power into their own hands. But as the voice of the na- 
tion, in spite of the inflammatory harangues and pamphlets which 
were scattered abroad, and the fatal conjunction of circumstan- 
ces that tended to inflame it, could never have been in unison 
with the yell of these wretches; the massacres of the first week 
of September were resolved on, to prevent the better part of the 
nation from voting at the elections. The consequence was, that 
a majority of such creatures as suited the designs of the Jaco- 
bins were returned, and the abolition of the nominally existing 
government was decreed the day after they assembled. 

I confess I have never looked on the madness of the National 
Convention without feeling a sentiment of profound regret, for 
the wickedness of human beings; nor ever been able to remem- 
ber the degraded spectacle which this great and valiant nation 
exhibited, whilst trampled on by its tyranny, without deep afliic- 



173 

tion. That a gang; of mountebank murderers, who, from the first 
moment they leaped on the political stage, avowed themselves 
exempt from all the restraints of conscience and honour, and 
who, with restless impatience, as Madame de -tael expresses 
it, stalked about in the Convention, like ferocious beasts in a 
cage, panting for carnage, should have been able to awe and 
terrify into submission, such a people as the French, can only 
be accounted for from the universal panic they inspired. 

It was the misfortune of France to be overtaken by revolution 
when divided into two distinct bodies, the rioters in wealth, and 
the hewers of wood and drawers of water. Hence the spirit of 
liberty became converted into the rage for equality, and this 
overthrew every thing. It was not equality in the eye of the 
law, that was understood by this word; but a low and personal 
equality; the reducing of virtue and talents, and manners and 
wealth, to the level of a common standard which nature abhors, 
and which was not to be accomplished by the raising what was 
debased, but by the degrading of what was exalted. This most 
vulgar notion of liberty is the legitimate offspring of arbitrary 
government, whose object it is to bless the few at the expense of 
the many. But still, it has been represented by the designing ad- 
vocates of passive obedience as the scion of republicanism. The 
moment that the flame of liberty became obscured by this smoke 
of equality, the Jacobins tore the reins of government out of the 
hands of the republicans. This Jacobinism is to republicanism, 
what fanaticism is to religion; and it would be as just to reproach 
the divine spirit of the latter with the crimes that have been com- 
mitted in its name, as to upbraid the genius of freedom with the 
intolerance of political head -cutters. It caused the beastly fren- 
zy of Robespierre to be mistaken for a zeal for freedom, and 
the blasphemous fetes which he celebrated over the victims of 
his vengeance in the very palace which his prototype, Catherine 
of Medicis, (the fountain of French corruption) had erected, 
to be imagined burnt-offerings to the goddess of liberty. Yet 
the most enormous of all the sacrileges which made the hearts 
of mankind loathe for a time the character of France — the 
placing an actress on an ass — the presenting her, with the in- 
struments of worship, to the Convention — the seating her on the 



174 

altar at Notre Dame, to be adored and honoured with incense, 
and covered with a shower of flowers from the hands of opera 
dancers, is now ascertained* to have been planned and paid 
for by three ex-privilegies, in order to dishonour the spirit of 
reform by outrage, and to stifle it by disgust. 

Wh^n the Society of Jacobins, which was composed of the 
bloodhounds of human butchery, who wore human ears for 
cockades, became the pretorian guards of France, they found 
means, by the multiplication of their clubs to have at their dis- 
posal all the vice of every individual in the kingdom. Thus 
president Barrere, who has since enjoyed the favour of Napo- 
leon, and who yet lives, under the protection of the Bourbons, 
a scab on the French territory, expressed in a phrase almost as 
laconic as Nero's, his cruelty and love of confiscation — '^We 
strike money," said he, '^by the knife of the guillotine, on the 
Place of the Revolution, and let us sweep the earth." 

There does not exist, perhaps, in all the records of rascality^ 
so ferocious an edict as that of the Convention, which sentenced 
to death any French soldier or officer who should give quarter 
to any Englishman or Hanoverian. But how nobly contrasted 
was the conduct of the soldiers, who disdainfully replied, «'We 
are Frenchmen, not assassins," with the grim ferocity of Bar- 
rere, who, in proposing that law, exclaimed, '-Non, non, il n'y 
a que les morts qui ne reviennent pas." Such madness could 
only have been produced by the pressure of great attacks from 
without, during a state of great fermentation within. For al- 
though all respect for government had been lost in France, long 
before the equinoctial gales of the revolution came on, it was 
only the combination of all Europe to put down the revolution, 
and the exasperation produced by writings full of wrath and 
contumely against its authors, that could have *^ maddened the 
brain of all France." 

The situation of the people of this country during the reign of 
Robespierre and terror, which lasted about fifteen months, from 
the end of May '93 to the end of July '94, was horrible in the 
extreme. It was not rank and property alone, that excited du- 
ring all this time the rage of the monsters that blasted the hap- 

* Lanjainais — Constitutions, Vol. !• pi 45. 



±75 

piness of France; — No! it was on virtue and talent, and beau- 
ty, that the knife of the guillotine was perpetually falling. Over 
all the wide extent of this country, there was nothing heard but 
the cry of despair; — no ray of promise fell upon the devoted 
land, — no light flashed across the horizon, to illumine the dark- 
ness of a region of woe, until the fall of the tyrants broke up 
the clouds that obscured it. But as the swell and agitati(m of 
the sea continues long after the gale is over, so there succeeded 
to this period of internal disaster an equally long one of anar- 
chy and confusion before the public mind settled down into any 
thing like a republic. 

We should remember, however, as we go along, that although 
there were crimes enough committed during the reign of terror 
to dishonor the French nation, and humble its pride; there were 
also a number of such actions performed, as adorn human nature 
and exalt its respectability. The annals of the free nations of 
antiquity teem, I admit, with a greater variety of heroical deeds, 
springing from the love of country; but I doubt whether 
those of any nation exhibit nobler instances of self devotion, 
taking their source from the sentiments which sweeten the do- 
mestic relations of society. Nor was political corruption by any 
means universal. Many individuals rose above the mass of poli- 
tical infamy that floated around them, and shewed, like dolphins, 
*Hheir backs above the element they lived in." Those bright 
examples are more and more admired every day, and the young 
men of France are now learning to regard them as patterns 
to copy after. It is in this manner that the spirits of Males- 
herbes and Bailly, of Vergniaud and Lavoisier, and a host 
of worthies, shall yet cheer and recreate the public virtue of 
France. 

The only government resembling a republic, that ever existed 
in this country, was that which prevailed in the interval between 
the end of the reigii of anarchy, (November, '95,) and the dis- 
memberment of the Directory, (September, '97.) It would have 
been no less fortunate, perhaps, for the prosperity of Europe, 
than for the happiness of France, if the circumstances of the 
times had then led to an amicable settlement of the great Eu- 
ropean quarrel. But the disposition of the French nation was 



176 

yet wild and extravagant; and the government itself was es- 
tranged from conciliation by the blaze of victory, in '96. One 
ignis fatuus was destined to succeed to another, and the rage 
for equality now gave way to an enthusiasm for military glory. 
The revolutionary government had not yet offered any beautiful 
spectacle to captivate the national vanity, when the success of 
the armies began to lay hold on and inflame it; for in two cam- 
paigns, in Holland and Italy, these had done more than had 
been accomplished in ten penturies of monarchy. The triumphs 
of all their young generals were splendid in the extreme; but 
the tremendous velocity with which Bonaparte in particular, 
rushed from victory to victory in Italy, whilst it shewed what 
France was capable of under a government partially free, turned 
the current of the national ambition into the channel of univer- 
sal conquest. This was a great misfortune at that time; for as 
the grand ebullition of the torrent of the revolution was then 
over, and as this was beginning to move with some sort of order 
and regularity, it was most unfortunate indeed that it should be 
turned into a false direction, and precipitated and broken on the 
rocks of ambition. But so it happened— accident substituted 
the chimera of glory in the place of the goddess of liberty, and 
the French ran after it to the brink of ruin. 

Unhappily too, even England, the lever of the confederacy, was 
equally estranged from the spirit of peace. The mad freaks of 
a few radical reformers had not only alienated the public love, 
from the reform of which her constitution actually stood in 
need, but had enabled the government to hold up the horrors of 
a revolution as the necessary consequence of a peace with 
France. All the gigantic powers of Mr. Burke's eloquence 
were again brought to bear on this occasion. His reflections on 
the revolution liad done much injury to France, by heating the 
resentful passions of those who had aided in bringing about that 
event, and who now controlled the public opinion; but they were 
scarcely so pernicious in their effects as his Letters on a Regi- 
cide Peace; for who can even conjecture the extent of human 
suffering, that might have been saved in Europe, if the war had 
ended in 1797, before a rage for conquest had swallowed up every 
other passion in the breasts of the French? 



177 

I do not wish, that any thing that I may say, respecting the 
opinions of Mr Burke, should lead you to believe that I do not 
admire the splendour of his genius, and respect even the bigotry 
of his patriotism. But I must confess, that before I came to 
France, and accidentally discovered the principal source* of his 
information on French affairs, I was always at a loss to imagine 
why he should have chosen to violate justice, in pouring out at 
that time his most gorgeous torrent of obloquy on the head of 
Carnot. That Carnot was the Hercules of the war department, 
who organized the terrible plans of the French victories, and 
that in order to do this he had to descend into the committee of 
public safety, as into the den of Tsenarus, and to perform his la- 
bours by the side of the Cerberean dogs of the revolution, is most 
true. Yet surely, if France has produced any man, the disinter- 
ested severity of whose character resembles that of Cato, it is 
Carnot; and I hope that the recollection of the injustice that has 
been done him, will induce you to excuse me for running a little 
in advance of our subject, in order to ascertain his claims on our 
respect. The heaviest censure that ever felF on him, was his co- 
operation with that bloody committee; but it is only fair to ob- 
serve, that his attention was exclusively bent to the military ope- 
rations of France, and that he has himself declared, that as a mem- 
ber of that body, he saved more lives than were sacrificed by the 
vengeance of Robespierre. In support of this, it may be remarked 
than when, after the fall of that tyrant, the majority of the nation- 
al convention, which was not, God knows, given to mercy, vo :ed 
an inquiry into his conduct, he was not only acquitted, but 
distinguished out of all active agency in the bloodj deeds of the 
committee, and immediately after returned to the new legislative 
body, by no less than fifteen departments. For what then has he 
been so acrimoniously vilified? Was it for having denounced and 

* Mr. B's principal informer, was, 1 am told, an Irish priest , by the name of 
Summers, who wrote him regularly what happened in Paris, and coloured every 
event after his prejudices. Summers resided and married here. He was a curious, 
inquisitive sort ot a man, that noted down every thing he heard. He is said to have 
got a pension of 100/. through lord Grenville, to whom he was introduced by Mr, 
B. — He was finally arrested in France, in consequence of an intercepted letter 
from him to a secretary of lord (Jastlereagh; tried for it, condemned, and shot iu 
Paris, [after Bonaparte's return from Russia,] in the spring of 1S13. 



178 

prevented the passage in the convention of a decree, to send all 
who might plead in favour of the accused to the scaffold, that he 
was set up in the pillory by Mr. B., and represented as a mon- 
ster filling his "bloody maw" with a thousand victims a day? 
Was it for the colossean energy of mind with which he directed 
the movements of fourteen armies, and opened to them the ave- 
nues of success, at the very time that he opposed in the cabinet 
the extension of the limits of France, that he has been held up 
to the world as the most enormous vulture that ever fed on the 
carcase of a ruined nation? Was it for the republican sternness 
which made him disdain to concur in the guilty purposes of the 
Directors, and which soon afterwards caused him to be expelled 
out of that body, and to escape transportation only by flight into 
Germany, that the liberty-haters have pictured him as the most 
grim spectre of a regicide that ever stalked over this land? 

A variety of events have occurred since that time, to try the 
temper of men's souls, and it cannot be denied, that Carnot has 
passed through all of them with consistency at least. After the 
dissolution of the directory, Bonaparte, who possessed great tact 
in the discernment of spirits, recalled him from exile, and ap- 
pointed him minister of war. Notwithstanding this, he was almost 
the only man who had the boldness to raise his voice against the 
consulate for life, and to oppose afterwards the crowning of 
Napoleon. For this preference of public over private interest, 
he fell of course into disrepute, and went into retirement; 
yet, although his name was more than once handed in on the 
list of conspirators, the emperor is said to have invariably 
stricken it out with his own hand, saying, " I do not like that 
man; but he is incapable of treason." During the long period 
in which Napoleon held victory enchained to his chariot wheels, 
and in his flight of triumph, was emptying the horn of plenty, on 
the flatterers and favorites, who were burning incense before him, 
Carnot still continued to live in retirement. But when the ambi- 
tious charioteer had driven France too far, and was himself grown 
giddy from excess of height; when he came rattling down from 
his elevation, with a velocity that threatened to shatter the cha- 
riot of state, and when the gilded companions of liis career were 
geen running away, like water from around him, it was then only 



179 

that Carnot came forward to his assistance, not to bask in the 
sunshine of imperial prosperity, but like the Spartan that went 
to Therm opolse, to save his country. As governor of Antwerp, he 
disdained to follow the example of Davoust at Hamburg, in level- 
ling for his convenience the suburbs of the city, and would never 
lower his flag, until he heard the shout of rejoicing that passed 
over France at the termination of the war. The Bourbons con- 
tinued him in power after the restoration, and when the minions 
of the court were beginning to violate without scruple the pledges 
of the royal faith, he alone had the unwelcome honesty to warn 
the king that an infraction of the charter might be the grave 
of his dynasty. This tragic prediction served the courtiers to 
mock at, until it was fulfilled. The court however, have not for- 
given Carnot that act of republican frankness — nay they never 
will forgive him, for it sins against their code of morality, and as 
they are not disposed to allow him any Delphian inspiration on the 
occasion, and are fond of having their reasoning end, like the 
" year in its own circle," they say that the prediction produced 
its own verification. When Bonaparte reappeared at the Tuile- 
ries, in March 1815, Carnot consented to come again into the 
ministry, in the hope, as he expressed it, of doing good, for he 
believed Napoleon had come back disposed to preserve peace, 
and to reign constitutionally. And some good he did do— for at 
a time when the youth of this country were on fire, and the spirit 
of chivalry flew all over France, like flame over the surface of 
spirituous liquor; when one might have supposed all the world 
occupied in military arrangements, he found leisure to encourage 
industry, and to introduce a permanent blessing to the lower 
classes of society, the Lancastrian mode of mutual instruction. 
That Carnot is a man of extraordinary sternness of character, 
and that he has drawn many of his principles of duty, from those 
severer acts of public virtue in history, which stagger our human- 
ity, whilst they satisfy our sense of justice, is unquestionably true. 
Without this he could never have consented to act in seeming con- 
currence with the revolutionary committee, in order to impede 
its career of extermination; for such were the fiends that inhabi- 
ted that den of iniquity, that no one could enter and come out 
of Jt, without leaving the skirts of his character at least in the 



180 

hands of dishonour. His defence of Varennes and D'Herbois 
would admit of no apology, I confess, if there were not some cir- 
cumstances which justify the belief that it proceeded from grati- 
tude for their having saved his life, or from a view to self preser- 
vation. But whatever doubts may assail the propriety of these ac- 
tions, I can never believe that he, who has come out of the revolu- 
tion, with no more fortune than he carried into it, is tainted with 
rapacity;, nor with low ambition neither, since he never sou2;ht a 
lead in public affairs, except when the only reward he could ex- 
pect was, not splendour and applause, but danger, poverty and 
fame. For what he has done he is driven into exile among the 
Poles, and has seated himself amid the ruins of a condemned, but 
noble people; and he there enjoys the contempt of those who hav- 
ing adored Bonaparte, now worship the Bourbons; as well as the 
respect of his countrymen, and as he assures the world the ap- 
probation of his own conscience.* 

lUe potens sui 
Ljetusque deget, cui licet in diem 
Dixisse, vixi. Houaoe. 

There existed on the continent of Europe, when the French 
revolution broke out, three powers, either of which was deemed 
a match for France. Two of them, Russia and Prussia, had 
grown up to greatness, since the time of Louis XIV., and yet so 
perfect seemed to be the equilibrium of the balance of power, 
that the dread of universal conquest was never more absent from 
the minds of men. Wars which had been carried on among the 
ancient nations with an eye to conquest, and among those of the 
middle ages from the excitements of religious zeal, had become 
in the last century, a sort of heroic pastime, in which armies met, 
and after slaughtering each other for a while, sat down on the 
field of battle; whilst ministers assembled, to discuss and settle 
the limits of some commercial privilege. But the enthusiasm 
which sprung up with the disturbances in France, awoke in the 
military a spirit which had slept for ages. To citizen soldiers 

* Jn 1815, when the regicide Fouche was minister, Carnot was banished, and 
after he received orders to quit France, he is said to have written the following la- 
conic letter to Fouche, "Traitre, ou veus tu que j' aille?" .\n(! to have received 
this characteristic answer from the triuinphant wretch; "Ou vous voulez, imbe- 
cille." — Republicans were then exil d , but Jacobins were spared: Carnot was or 
dered away, but such hyenas as Barrere were suffered to remain in France. 



181 

who felt themselves always exposed to the terrible vengeance of 
their enemies, fortitude and valour were nr'ispensable; ivd as 
every Frenchman soon fancied, that in fighting for his country he 
was fighting for himself, each army became inspired with an en- 
ergy, which the discipline of mercenary troops, could neither 
overcome, nor withstand. Hence in the beginning of the war the 
Allied armies that were ordered on to a career of easy triumph, 
recoiled, overwhelmed with disaster and disgrace;-^hence the 
neighbouring nations were astonished, when they saw the whole 
frontier of France encircled with a belt of bayonets, and hence a 
feeling of despondency shook the very heart of Europe, when 
soon after, the victorious cannon of France were heard at the same 
time, along the shores of the Zuyder Zee, and down the banks 
of the Danube; on the plains of Italy, and among the mountains 
of the Pyrennees, Happy would it have been for the destinies of 
the world if the war had ended then. The soldiers of France yet 
retained the sentiments of citizens, and they might have returned 
back into the bosom of their country, satisfied with their measure 
of glory, and zealous only for the establishment of liberty. Better 
terms than those which were five years afterwards accepted at 
Amiens, might have been obtained in 1797; but those politicians, 
whose interest it was to preserve the ancient institutions of Eu- 
rope, succeeded in inspiring a general belief that exertions as pro- 
digious as those of France would be necessarily followed in a 
short time, by extreme debility; as the wave which is driven up 
highest on the beach only rolls back the faster when exhausted, 
and leaves a larger portion of the strand bare From this idle idea 
the war was continued; and when the French perceived that it 
could not end, so long as they were resolved to hold, what their 
silly elation of mind would never suiFer them to think of yielding, 
they sat themselves down to the contemplation of conquest, as the 
noblest of all glories. As they could not excel other nations in 
the art of government, they sought satisfaction in beating them; 
and this martial spirit transmitted the sceptre of France in a 
short time, from the pikes of the mob to the bayonets of the army. 
The just understanding of free government, can only be acquired 
in the school of experience, and hence the French were entirely 
without it. The good sense of a few patriots, occasionally shot a 
few rays of light across their political horizon; but like rockets-at 

24 



18S 

night, these only served to render the general darkness more evi- 
dent. Indeed I am by no means disposed to believe the French 
endowed with that promptitude of mind in the embracing new 
doctrines and habits, which the lightness and frivolity of their 
manners have led many to imagine. Susceptible of vehement in- 
spirations they certainly are, but difficulties soon fatigue .them. 
No people have shown less capacity for innovation, or fitness for 
establishing colonies, than they. In America, for example, whilst 
the English and other nations, have bent with facility to circum- 
stances, and not resisted the adoption of evident improvements, 
beyond the second or third generation, the French in Canada re- 
tain pretty much the usages they carried over with them two cen- 
turies ago; and in the war of Independence, they only continued 
obedient to Great Britain. This may arise from the peculiar plea- 
santness of their social habits; or from the custom in absolute 
monarchies of cultivating Imagination in preference to Reason. 

Throughout the revolution in France, the French prattled as 
much about liberty as if they really possessed it; and still their 
proneness to passive obedience often showed itself in ridiculous 
contrast with their feverish affectation of equality. When Augereau 
came to Paris in '97, to overthrow the constitution by military 
force, and was asked whether Bonaparte had not an idea of 
making himself king of Italy, he was so well drilled in republican 
phraseology, as to reply, " he is a young man too well bred for 
that." Many discoveries are now daily brought to light, which go 
to prove a constant tendency in this nation to relapse into monar- 
chy. There is even reason to believe, that at the very moment 
the Directory were declaring, not only that royalty was done 
over forever in France, but that those men who had fancied 
themselves delegated by heaven to oppress her could never show 
their faces here again, a part of that very body was conspiring 
to bring back the old government. It was not attachment to 
liberty, but the powerful impediment which the private interests 
of individuals opposed to this scheme, that prevented its execu- 
tion. To the general mind the word restoration conveyed the 
idea of counter-revolution, or the re-establishment of every 
thing as it had been. Now the division and sale of the lands of 
the church, of the emigrants, and of the crown, had thrown 
them into numerous hands; and the removal of every barrierj 



183 

except want of talent, to promotion in the army or state, had 
b-on^ht many into office, and flattered many more with the hope 
of distinction. If the nation could have been guaranteed against '^^^ ^^ ^/j 
these advantages, the recal of the Bourbons would have followed 
in the first interval of repose after the convulsions of jacobinism 
were over. Those who have contemplated the French nation 
only at a distance, by the signs which have reached them through 
the false medium of the Paris journals, or the distorting atmos- 
phere of the British gazettes, may be of a different opinion; 
but it is impossible to mix long with this people, and to study its 
dispositions by such lights as conversation and books throw out, 
without coming to that conclusion. An honest attachment to 
liberty is always firm but never turbulent; for opinions which are 
violent are bottomed on passion, not on principle. Now the 
French were so frantic in their love of liberty, that Tom Paine, 
who was the most extravagant democrat in America, was a man 
of such exceeding moderation here, that they would not listen 
to him when he proposed to make a present of the King and 
royal family to the Americans. The fact is, that although the 
storm of the revolution laid prostrate every institution in this 
realm, it did not destroy the monarchical habits of the people. 
\\ hen the violence of the gale came on, such opinions, fled 
for concealment into the recesses of every man's mind; but 
they lay there as in their hiding places, ready to come out on 
the first occasion; and so they did, like those crucifixes, ima- 
ges, and pictures of the royal family, which, until the restora- 
tion, were supposed to have been broken and destroyed. The 
men who felt most conscious of the concealment ot such de- 
sires, pretended to be most infatuated with liberty; for know- 
ing themselves to be hypocrites, they suspected their neighbours 
of being so likewise, and hence originated the foul system of 
punishment on suspicion. 

The fierce and terocious intolerance of Jacobinism did irre- 
parable injury to the cause of liberty. By banishing from social 
intercourse that tranquillity which is the solace of age, and that 
candour and security without which existence is no blessing, it 
destroyed the charm of domestic life; and by holding up a spec- 
tacle of discord and cruelty as the necessary consequence of a 
republic, it disgusted many even with liberty itself. The atro- 



184 

cious system of domiciliary visits, and the license of suspicion^ 
which unbridled all the vice of society to devour all its virtue, 
and which were in themsehes the legitimate offspring of that 
anarchical tyranny which the French mistook for freedom, 
caused most good men to regret the comparative happiness thej 
had enjoyed under the old government, and to wish for its res- 
toration. Their tree of liberty had blossomed superbly, it is 
true, but it had hitherto brought forth nothing but bitter fruit. 
Laws and constitutions alone never did, nor ever can, create a 
republic — they may ordain its existence and model its parts, but 
unless education has nursed up to proper vigour the sentiment 
of public virtue, a nation may adopt a republican constitution 
of government, but will never preserve it. ''Liberty," said Lord 
Bolingbroke, ''is a tender plant, which will not flourish unless 
the genius of the soil be proper for it, nor will any soil continue 
to be so long, which is not cultivated with incessant care. ' In 
France its seeds were scattered loosely over the soil, without 
any previous preparation to receive them — they quickened, I 
admit, bul had not time to take any deep root before the ignorant 
hands that went out to cultivate them, mistook them for the 
noxious weeds that had sprung up plentifully enough along with 
them, and destroyed them together. 

The vanity of living at Court, and the silly ambition of being 
thought to possess its favours, had made the French the light 
and frivolous people they were before the revolution; and we 

know that vanity and frivolity are not republican virtues. 

When, therefore, Madame de Stael said, that power depraved 
the French more than other men, she mistook an apparent for a 
real cause; since if the habits of education and the example 
of the court had, in the minds of Frenchmen, so worn the 
links of the chain of principle, that they were ready to give way 
the moment they were put in use, it is not to the cause which 
tightened, but to that which weakened them, that the defect is 
ascribable. As the court had never recognized any other proof of 
merit than success, a good fame had been of little or no impor- 
tance; and lacitus has said, perhaps with truth, "contemptu 
famfcc, contemni, virtutem." 



LETTER X. 

Paris ^ March 16th, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

The dismemberment of the Directory in 1797, was fatal to 
the cause of republicanism in France. The democratical des- 
pots who usurped the administration of the government, scoffed 
at rational liberty, and transported many of its best friends out 
of France, to pine and perish in the pestilential heats of Cay- 
enne. They quarrelled with America; invaded Switzerland; 
made a mad expedition into Egypt, and lost the ascendancy in 
Italy. The nation breathed somewhat more freely, it is true, under 
the irregular pressure of their tyranny, than during the hot colli- 
sion of '93, but it became every day more and more fatigued by a 
political system, whose schemes were disastrous abroad and dis- 
graceful at home. When under their direction, General Bona- 
parte discovered the invasion of England to be an experiment too 
perilous for his ambition, and that he had not yet sufficient 
weight of reputation to stand in balance against the Directory, 
he planned, with romantic audacity, the conquest of Egypt and 
India. The society of scientific men, which he gathered around 
him on this occasion, gave a moral splendour to the enterprize, 
which no other military crusade ever possessed, and he knew 
full well that the natural propensity of mankind to exalt what- 
ever is at a distance, would induce them to exaggerate the mag- 
nitude of his exploits, and give to his name an expansive power 
on the national vanity. He rightly conjectured, that whilst his 
rivals were exhausting the measure of their popularity at home, 
it might be easy, if the expedition were unfortunate, to attribute 
the calamity to them; and should it prove successful, he might 
erect for himself a civilized kingdom in the land of the Ptolo- 
mies, and afterwards, according to the prosperity of circumstan- 
ces, extend the horizon of his ambition. But perhaps, unhappily 



186 

for the future tranquillity of the world, and the progress of po- 
litical reformation, the navy of England overtook his expedition 
at the mouths of the Nile. The victory of Aboukir not only de- 
stroyed the machinery of his philosophers, but deprived him of 
the means of procuring such reinforcements as might have esta- 
blished his colony, and kept him forever after amused by visions 
of oriental conquest. The loss of his fleet relieved him from 
blame for the failure of the expedition; the idle triumphs of his 
arms elated the vanity of his nation; and his opportune return to 
France at the moment of general dissatisfaction with the Direc- 
tory, aided the projects of his ambition. He presently succeed- 
ed, therefore, in taking the government into his own hands, in 
order, as he declared, to consecrate the sovereignty of the 
people, and secure the eternal triumph of liberty and equality. 

As he was a man who considered mankind as nothing, and 
himself as every thing, his military mutilation of the constitu- 
tion saved in appearance, but ruined in reality, the liberties of 
France. The new Consular Constitution, by reserving to him 
the sole right of initiating or proposing a law, put the legislative 
power absolutely into his hands; and by investing him only with 
the right of ordering the prosecution of the executive ofiicers of 
government, clothed him with a power as odious and despotical 
as that of the old regime, and to which nothing but the blaze of 
glory which then environed him, could have reconciled the 
French people. It is somewhat remarkable, that the day on 
which this Consular Constitution was proclaimed, and Bona- 
parte entered on his career of tyranny, (the 14th of December, 
1799,) was the day in which Washington, the noblest friend of 
liberty that the revolutions of the world have produced, expired 
in another hemisphere. It would seem indeed, to have been a 
day on which "freedom shrieked, and hope for a season bade 
the world farewell." 

During the first two years of the Consular Government, how- 
ever, France had cause to rejoice at the ascendancy of Bona- 
parte. His exertions to restore her internal tranquillity, and 
her external greatness, were praiseworthy in the extreme; and 
his merit in these particulars has been much overlooked, espe- 
cially by the accomplished Madame de Stael. As I by no means 
think the French people so unjustifiably fickle as their frequent 



187 

tlianges of government have led many to imagine, inasmuch as 
great restlessness and frequent change of position are natural 
in a suffering body, I must beg your particular attention to the 
confusion and disorder that prevailed in France at the close of 
'99, and the masterly ability with which Bonaparte allayed them 
before the peace of Amiens in 1802. When he returned from 
Egypt, not only were the French armies fast retreating before 
those of the Allies, and the whole of the brilliant conquests he 
had made in Italy in '96, lost by a series of defeats; but the 
navy of France was destroyed — her commerce annihilated-^— a 
civil war organized in more than one fourth of the departments, 
and the spirit of insurrection daily breaking out in the others. 
The highways were so infested by gangs of robbers and assas- 
sins,* that the funds of the public treasury, if they had not been 
already pillaged in the houses of the receivers of the revenue, 
could but seldom reach the capital in safety. The nation was 
icourged by at least two most odious laws, those of ''hostages, 
£nd forced loans," and threatened at the same time by the vil- 
^anous canaille of Paris, with an agrarian division of property. 
The national treasury was exhausted without the means of re- 
plenishing itself, and had been saved from the opprobrium of 
bankruptcy only by the most violent exactions. The Directors 
themselves, at the head of the government, were without ener- 
gy of will or harmony of opinion, and alternately the sport of 
either party, as the majority happened to fluctuate in the two 
councils; whilst the sound part of the nation, the friends of law 
md rational liberty were wandering in exile, or condemned at 
home to an impotent neutrality. Such was the condition of 
France after ten years of trouble and convulsion. In addition to 
these public grievances, the spirits of men were so worn down 
and fatigued by insecurity of life and property, that they longed for 
repose, and would have been pleased with the consolidation of 
any government that promised to be durable. Some wished to 
' get back again such of their friends as proscription had chased out 
of the country, whilst others desired a solid guarantee for the ac- 
quisitions they had made of national or church property. Many 
trembled at the remembrance of the reign of terror, and many 
perhaps preferred the inglorious tranquillity of the old regime, 

* See Lacretelle. 



188 

to the perilous vicissitudes of the new Commonwealtli. Hence^ 
it has been confidently asserted, that Bonaparte was aided in 
his conspiracy against the Directory by many who imagined him 
about to play the contemptible part of General Monk, in the 
ignominious surrender of the rights of England. But whatever 
may have been the conjunction of circumstances that enabled 
him to concentrate so much influence in his own person, he 
made use of it to great advantage; first, in the energy with 
which he embraced, on coming to the head of affairs, the most 
vigorous schemes for the re-organization of the nation; and se- 
condly, for the meteor-like rapidity of his military movements, 
from the camp at Dijon to the glacier summits of St. Bernard; 
and from the hot encounters of Montebello to that explosioa 
of victory, the battle of Marengo. Nor can he be too much ad- 
mired for the ability with which he directed the other armies of 
the republic; for that ray of his genius which enabled Masseni 
to force back the hitherto victorious Suwarrow into the wilds 
of Russia, — for the power which he communicated to Brune, d" 
driving the Duke of York to capitulation at Alckmaer, — and for 
the judgment with which he directed the march of Moreau, till 
this general met the chivalry of Germany at Linden, and comi 
manded his ''fires of death to light the darkness of her scC' 
nery." 

Whilst these victories acted as a wand to enchant the judg 
ments of the whole French people, and to turn their meditations 
on war, the vigour with which he tranquilized the spirit of fac 
tion at home, and the regular motions which he communicatee 
to the sinews and nerves of the state, were no less conspicuous 
and extraordinary. The law re-assumed its dominion, — the ro 
ving parties of brigands were put down, — the canaille of Paris 
were set to work, — the manufacturers of the commonwealth were 
encouraged, — its ao;riculture revived, — its revenue began to flow 
in with an augmenting stream, — the virtuous emigrants who had 
been driven out of their country by tyranny, returned— and the 
whole scene of France began to exhibit an uniform prospect of 
prosperity. In this pleasing condition of things, the First Con- 
sul showed himself very moderate, and seemingly animated by 
a desire of peace, even in the second year ot his triumphant ca- 
reer. The allies, and even England herself, were now pretty 



189 

well tired of the experiment of war; for although the Tower 
guns had announced many a victory, the nation found 5 in look- 
ing on the map of Europe, that France, so far from being ''blot- 
ted out of it," had gone on devouring a kingdom a year. The 
consequence was, that Mr. Pitt, whose great abilities had 
hitherto supported the burthen of the war, retired from office, 
and the peace of 1802 was immediately concluded. This peace 
of Amiens might possibly have lasted longer, if the intercourse 
which it opened with France, had not shown the resources of 
this country to be terribly augmented. When Mr. Burke, in 
the beginning of the revolution, had called France a mere moun- 
tain of ruins, and Mirabeau, with more prophetic inspiration 
had exclaimed, that if a mountain, it was a volcano, — though no 
foreigners believed him, yet now that the prophecy had come to 
pass, all the world thought the volcano had nearly burnt itself 
out; so that, after a little repose, it would be incapable of any 
further eruption. It was not, therefore, a very satisfactory 
spectacle to the nations of Europe, to behold this gigantic com- 
monwealth sitting down soberly in the midst of them, to recruit 
its energies, and to spread abroad the contagion of revolution. 
The First Consul also, had too profound a knowledge of the 
principles of human nature, not to be aware, that the minds of 
men would naturally, in the tranquillity of peace, turn to the 
contemplation of the art of government, and discern the strata- 
gems by which he meant to consolidate his power. Had he been 
actuated at that time by a proud enthusiasm for the principles 
on which are founded the happiness and dignity of mankind, — 
had he possessed liberality enough to discard a vulgar infatua- 
tion witk despotism, and been warmed by a generous ambition 
to be really great, he might have accomplished more in the 
course of his life for the good of Europe, and the civilization of 
mankind, than any hero or statesman that the world has ever 
produced. But even before he came into the possession of im- 
perial power, he had adopted as the basis of his political policy, 
those principles of profound cunning which Machiavel has so 
acutely laid down and commented on. He had learned from 
him* that a man who is wicked enough to wish to overthrow the 
liberties of his country, and to establish a despotism for himself, 

* See Commentary on I. ivy, 
25 



190 

cannot be, and to maintain his power must not be, delicate in 
soiling himself with crimes; that he should root out every ves- 
tige of freedom, in order to render every thing around him as 
new as his own authority; and permit no rank, honour or wealth 
to be enjoyed, which did not flow from himself; that he should 
adopt Philip of Macedon (who drove his people, like flocks of 
cattle, from one province to another,) as his guide; and like Da- 
vid, load the needy with favours, whilst he sent away the rich 
empty-handed. Napoleon made the world drink deep of the 
cup of tyranny, which he filled at the fountain of such princi- 
ples; and when he had forced it down to the very dregs, he dis- 
covered that the draught was as fatal to himself as it was to 
others. 

His contempt for human nature, is a vice I shall neither at- 
tempt to extenuate nor to disguise; but surely you will admit, that 
if there ever were circumstances that could justify this impression, 
they were those which produced it in the mind of Napoleon. In 
France, Italy, Egypt, and Syria, the only countries he had visit- 
.ed, he had found mankind voluptuaries in nothing but vice. He 
was very young when he saw the French presented with the no- 
blest opportunity that any nation could desire of perfecting their 
political institutions, and shewing to advantage the best virtues of 
the human heart. So far from having embraced it, he had seen 
them on all occasions rushing forward to the violation of every 
principle held sacred among men; and hunting down every 
being that dared to let slip a principle of justice, or a senti- 
ment of humanity. He was not very deeply skilled in the lore 
of antiquity, nor in the history of the brighter ages of the world; 
but with the obliquities of Italian morality he had some acquain- 
tance, and wherever he dipped into the history of the French, 
during the hard times of the ancient regime, he must have 
found its pages too often soiled by venefice, assassinations, 
and all the " old entanglements of iniquity." He must have seen 
her Du Gueslins and her Bayards, her Hospitals and Augueseaus, 
rewarded rather by the admiration of posterity, than by the bene- 
ficence of their contemporaries. His would have been a novel ca- 
reer of glory indeed— the discovery to the old world, of a new 
continent in politics; but independent of the inaptitude of the 
French, as he imagined for freedom, the reward of such an en- 



191 

terprize, (where so many corrupt men were lookinj^ for prefer- 
ment,) was at least pioblematical. It is somewhat surprising that 
although the French have displayed a fine capacity for imitation, 
and the brilliant embellishment of every thing, none of the 
great discoveries of modern times are theirs. The art of printing, 
the mariners compass, the new world, the true system of tlie 
universe, gun-powder, steam engines, glass and telescopes, the 
liberty of the press, hab^ corpus, together with the true princi- 
ples of government have all originated among other nations. One 
genius indeed did arise to glorify France, but the convention 
which pretended to hold the inquisition in abhorrence, for con- 
demning the discoveries of Gallileo, interrupted with still harsher 
cruelty the inquiries of Lavoisier. Like all intolerent persecu- 
tors, they were incapable of appreciating the greatness of his 
merit; and in order to reduce the aspirations of his heavenly ge- 
nius, to the level of their vulgar equality, or to confiscate the 
funds destined for his experiments, (humanity might disdain to 
remember which,) they cut short the glory of his career, by the 
kniie of the guillotine. Besides, there was another circumstance 
not very encouraging to the cresciveness of genuine ambition in 
Bonaparte; the recollection that the French had never had but 
one true hero for a king, and that he had been warred against and 
finally assassinated. It might admit of much doubt too, how far 
the nation he had to direct, reared up under a despotism, which 
deadened the sense of right and wrong; or in a revolution, whose 
rapine and cruelty, seemed to have battered to pieces every prin- 
ciple of justice; how far I say, such a nation in the state of chaos 
and anarchy, in which he found it, was capable of being restrain- 
ed by wise laws and a gentle adm'mistration. The national love 
had not in fact shewn itself an element sufficiently dense to buoy 
up the reputation of any good man for any length of time; and it 
might have admitted in his mind, of very serious doubt, whether 
he himself could swim long in that hurricane season of faction, 
unless he secured the national vanity as his ballast. It was this 
very vanity which had supported royalty many years in France; 
for when the wits of the last century, by holding up the mirror of 
truth to common sense, exhibited the pageant of royalty, disrobed 
of the illusions of vanity, and succeeded in destroying the imagi- 
nary identity of every Fienchman with his king, every one thei^ 



192 

became disgusted with those very follies which they had applaud- 
ed so long as they fancied them in some degree their own. This 
foppish vanity, however, had not been done away with by the in- 
crease of the sense of personal dignity, but by derision and ridi- 
cule; so that it was ready to return the moment its object became 
too powerful to be laughed at. 

The almost miraculous celerity of Bonaparte's military move- 
ments, and the equally admirable promptitude with which he 
allayed the internal disorders of the commonwealth, together 
with that large munificence, with which he patronized learning 
and talents, and perhaps also the peculiar cast of his own genius; 
his laconic brilliancy of thought, which so frequently broke out 
with an air of sublimity, served to enchant the imaginations 
of this people That address of his to the army in Egypt, when 
in pointing to the Pyramids, he called on them to remember 
that the eyes of 4000 years were upon them; and that expres- 
sion in his letter of condolence, to the mother of Dessaix, in 
which he says, '*I have commanded a monument to be erected 
to him on the summit of the Alps, that it may overlook at the 
same time, conquered Italy, and regenerated France," together 
with many others of a like character, which have enabled the 
whipster politicians of the day, to upbraid him with Charlatanism, 
do on the contrary very clearly shew, that he sounded most ju- 
diciously the bottom of the French character, and possessed a 
sagacious tact in letting go his anchor on the proper ground. 

V^ ithout therefore meaning to offer any apology, for the tem- 
per of mind which determined Bonaparte, to seek a "bad emi- 
nence" among men, I think it results from these reflections, that 
his errour was less atrocious than that of any conqueror or con- 
spirator, who has ever overthrown or undermined the liberty of a 
nation. Others, to be sure, have been more fortunate in having had 
their tyrannies most mercifully forgotten, and their guilty hero- 
ism glossed over by the admiration of mankind; whilst even 
justice has been refused to Bonaparte. 

Is there any impartial man, who can put the attack on the 
Orangerie at St. Cloud, in balance with the passage of the Rubi- 
con, or fancy there was more affectation in his clemency to 
Moreau than in the Roman usurper in turning his back on the 
head of Pompey.^ Was the neglect with which he treated the 



193 

friends of French freedom, as atrocious as the proscriptions of 
Au^^ustus; or the sacrifice, after a trial at Vincennes, of the Due 
D'Eiighein, who was plotting his ruin (even if it was not occa- 
sioned bj Talleyrand,) as infamous as the assassination of 
Cicero in the delicious plains of his Formian villa. Did his pan- 
ders and parasites, like those of Augustus, ransack his capital 
for beautiful females, and violate the sacred modesty of nature 
to see what might suit the voracity of his lust? Was his inva- 
sion of Russia as useless, and inspired by as guilty an ambition, 
as the march of Alexander into Asia? Did he burn any Perse- 
polis to gratify the caprice of a Thais; or did he slay any Cly- 
tus in the delirium of a **drunken brawl?" Did he behead five 
thousand five hundred Saxons in a day, or put out the eyes of 
his relations, like the illustrious Charlemagne? Did he put fire 
to a whole province in the depth of winter for his amusement, 
or hunt down, with fire and sword, his protestant subjects like 
Louis le Grand? Were his prospects of general conquest more 
gloomy than those of Charles V. or his confinement of Pius 
VII. in France, whilst he renovated the unhappy city of Rome, as 
hypocritical and base as the sacking and bloody pillage of this 
city by that prince? Was the obstinacy that ruined him less glo- 
rious than that of Charles XII. or his rage for embroiling nations 
more selfish than that of Frederick the Great? Was his seizure 
of the worn-out despotism of Spain less justifiable than the parti- 
tion of the factious commonweath of Poland? Was his political 
anatomy in carving out the confederation of the Rhine, more 
criminal than that of the Congress of Vienna, in the dismember- 
ment of Saxony, because, as Talleyrand sarcastically observed to 
that body, her monarch, in abandoning Napoleon, happened to 
let his watch run a quarter of an hour slower than his neighbours? 
Or was the mediation of Switzerland less warrantable than the 
delivery of Genoa and Venice into the withering hands of Sar- 
dinia and Austria? Did his return from Elba, when Europe was 
discussing the propriety of forcing him thence, more rudely 
violate the principles of legitimacy than the invasion of Eng- 
land by William and Mary, who, in spite of that event, and 
of the battle of the Boyne, are of ''blessed memory?" — 
AVas the amnesty he promised on his return into France, 
less scrupulously observed than that of the Legitimates after the 



194 

restoration; or does the manner in which he suppressed the in 
surrection in the south, cause spectres to start up in the memory^ 
like the name of CuUoden? 

To political maniacs, (for such there are even at this late day 
who profess the doctrine of divine indefeisible hereditary right) I 
would not address such questions; but to a royalist in the exercise 
of his reason — to a man who can see no difference between the 
violation of a right inherited and that of one fairly acquired; to 
whom the flight of James into France, or of Louis into Flanders, 
or of Napoleon into Elba, is the same sort of thing; I believe I 
might ask these questions without offence, and that they would 
tend rather to allay the heat of prejudice than to inflame it. I 
have not much affection, I confess, for great conquerors; they 
have ever appeared to me a very infamous class of men, and al- 
though it be natural, that admiration for the talents of a great 
person should draw after it some respect for his character, I have 
always been surprised at the proneness o^ mankind in contempla- 
ting the splendour of wickedness, to forget its enormity. 



LETTER XL 

Paris, March 21 sf, 1S20. 
My Dear Sir, 

When the first Consul planned the re-establishment of a, 
regular despotism in France he knew full well that the fabric, he 
was about to erect, was abhorrent to the principles of common 
sense, and could never be consolidated on any other foundation 
than that of ignorance or depravity. Although the activity of 
his life had never left him much leisure, he was become profound 
in the science of politics, and had too quick and comprehensive 
a mind not to perceive that since the fall of the Roman Empire, 
the governments of Europe (under the influence of general cau- 
ses) had passed through two changes and were now entering on 
the third. That the first consequence of the falling to pieces of 
that grand incorporation of nations had been the partition of each 
state that acquired its independence into little principalities, 
which led to the domination of the nobles during the feudal ages of 
barbarism and rapine; and which domination might have per- 
petuated the mental famine of Europe even to the present time,, 
but for the waste of the fortunes and of the lives of many of 
these petty tyrants during the holy wars. — That the loss of the 
independence of the nobles had led to the assumption of power 
into the hands of kings, and to the exercise of a tyranny, more or 
less severe according to the curb which the condition of the no- 
bility or people may have enabled them to put on the arbitrary 
impetuosity of their monarchs — -And thirdly that the pressure 
of these bad governments had been greatly mitigated of late 
years, and was daily undergoing great diminution from the pro- 
gress of knowledge, and the increase of affluence, arising from 
the protection of industry under every regular government. As 
he knew that these causes had given that impulse to civilization 
which overthrew the old fabric of monarchy of France ^ he must 



196 

have been aware that to build it up again, (in spite of the na- 
tional distaste which was then loathing liberty very violently) 
it was necessary to re-barbarize the nation or to poison the air 
that was vivifying the public morals; and thus to found on cor- 
ruption what had been formerly bottomed on ignorance. The 
first was not only a work of infinite labour and slow operation, 
if indeed it might be accomplished at all, but it was one which 
could be done only by dastardly and ignoble means, which had 
nothing in them of the seducing brightness of false glory to de- 
coy and deceive. But a generous people like the French, full of 
vanity and enchanted with brilliancy, might be easily allured into 
corruption by the false lights of stars and ribbons and rapine and 
military glory. As we have already seen, therefore, some of 
the arts by which Bonaparte won to himself the affection of this 
nation, let us now look a little into the policy which he adopted 
to preserve it; in order to determine whether or no the French 
can be exonerated from the charge of unjust instability in their 
.attachment to this extraordinary person. 

In order to keep up appearances and to gull the credulity of 
shallow thinkers, Bonaparte preserved in his new consular con- 
stitution a legislative body; and placed it in a building that was 
an admirable symbol of it, for this exhibits a magnificent front 
of crowded columns without any solid body discernable behind 
them. The majority of his new senate were of course obedient 
to his will and under the pretence of "organizing liberty" began 
the consolidation of his government by a list of proscription. 
At the same time, however, that the ardent admirers of just 
government were, (in the canting phrase of Parisian mockery) 
sent on their travels, and the milder republicans ordered to 
breathe the air of the country, the more polished chevaliers of the 
old school, who had shewn an inflexible adherence to the doc- 
trines of monarchy, were recalled home to constitute the **co- 
rinthian capitals" of the imperial edifice. Had this recal been 
unconnected with any after thought, it would have been an act of 
substantial justice, and deservedly hailed by the nation as a 
proof of a merciful and magnanimous disposition; since an in- 
finite number of good, great, and amiable qualities belonged to 
those distinguished persons whom Jacobinism hunted out of 
France. But I fear there is too much reason to believe that the 



197 

generous clemency of Napoleon on this occasion was measured 
out by the calculations of self interest, and that he designed in 
assassinating the liberties of France, to imitate that tyrant of 
antiquity, who wreathed with flowers the dagger with which he 
struck his victims. It is somewhat remarkable, however, that 
men of sense, whose attention had been long turned to the con- 
templation of political signs, should not have perceived, in the 
general contexture of his policy, the ultimate object of his 
ambition; yet even Mr. Neckar, with all his practical good 
sense, wrote for the study of Bonaparte, in the third year of his 
consulate, an eulogium on a republic, one and indivisible, for 
France. To speak figuratively, that statesman seems rather to 
have fixed his eyes, during his retirement at Coppet, on the 
glittering pinnacles of the glaciers of Mont Blanc, than on the 
busy scene of real life that lay spread in prospect immediate- 
ly before him, along the shores of Lake Leman. In planning 
his visionary scheme of government, he did not observe that the 
crown of France, which he had left on the pikes of the canaille 
of Paris, had first passed to the bayonets of the army, and was 
fixed then to the point of a conqueror's sword, where the temper of 
the nation, now wearied out with experiment, and soured by 
disappointment, was most likely to keep it; since the repose of 
despotism hath something captivating in it to those, who are 
fatigued with the commotions of anarchy. 

Notwithstanding Bonaparte's great, and hitherto well deserved 
popularity, and the immense means of warping the opinions of in- 
dividuals that were placed at his disposal by the consular govern- 
ment, he found it very difiicult to secure at all times, a majority 
ready to second his designs, and he therefore resorted to ^clan- 
destine means of undermining the public will. For this reason he 
never forged a link in the chain of despotism , but under the show 
of liberality. "Do you wish me to deliver you over to the Jaco- 
bins" said he, and the general dread of the assaults of these 
wretches on the public weal, immediately tolerated the practice 
of impudent frauds in the elections, and the return of the crea- 
tures of government, without regard to the voice of the real elec- 
tors. " Do you wish your senators to be beggars," said he, and 
this authorized the pretended reward of their patriotism by lucra- 
tive offices, created expressly to excite among them by the temp- 

26 



198 

tations of venality, an emulation in obedience. The trial by jury 
was retained, (and still exists,) as an engine of oppression— the 
jurors were selected by the accusing authority, and yet even this 
lever of tyranny was not found sufficiently supple to keep pace 
with the velocity of Napoleon's views, and therefore under the 
cloak of avoiding dangerous excitements of the public mind, all 
offences against the state, were reserved to be tried by special 
tribunals, or " commissions extraordinaireSy^* to execute orders 
under the semblance of equity. 

Mr Locke once said, there existed no truth which might not 
lead to errour, no remedy which might not become a poison, and 
he might have added, no engine of civilization, which might not be 
converted into an agent of barbarism. Thus the press, which when 
unfettered, sheds illumination over a nation, becomes when mono- 
polized by government the most powerful instrument of debase- 
ment. The office of the Censors, whose duty it is to approve a work, 
or to condemn it to annihilation, would be useless, if it were not the 
object of their institutors to make " the worse appear the better 
reason." As there is nothing so beautiful as truth, and as nothing 
xvhich is beautiful can hate the light, that which is true has no 
necessity for concealment. 

Le faux est toujoui's fade, ennuyeux, lang^issant; 

Mais la nature est vraifet d'abord en le sent. Boileau. 

Hence in every country which enjoys the liberty ot the press, 
truth ultimately triumphs over falsehood, and mankind having 
confidence in the lights which fall within their observation, reci- 
procally instruct each other For the want of it in France, I doubt 
whether a single change of government, since the second year of 
her revolution, was made with the approbation of the majority of 
the nation, (the first Directory perhaps alone excepted.) A people 
who voted like those of France did for the consulate for life, (when 
Bonaparte appealed to the communes for what was not to be obtain-f 
ed from the senate,) who were actuated by the dread of consequen- 
ces, and who felt the sword of Damocles suspended, if not over their 
lives, certainly over their prosperity, cannot be supposed to have 
expressed the honest dictates ot their hearts. 

Those who reside in countries in which justice has prevailed and 
tyranny been unknown for ages, are strangers even in thought to 

' LstDJuinais. Constitutions de tous les peupies. 1 vol. 



199 

the insolence with which the agents of arbitrary government ex- 
ercise their authority. In America and England the bench acts, 
in criminal cases, as the protector of the accused, and with an 
air of merciful solicitude, frequently cautions him against impru- 
dent declarations; but even yet in France, the angry sternness of 
the judge, resembles the unrelenting severity of a prosecutor, and 
might almost lead a stranger to imagine, that the condemnation 
of the accused, was a triumph to the bench. But the most insup- 
portable part of despotism, is that retail of tyranny which comes 
from the hands of petty officers, who trample justice and innocence 
under foot, on the pretence of serving the state; and whose impu- 
punity is always secure, from the circuition of the process and 
the arrogant impatience of the authorities to which they are amen- 
able. The prefects, sub-prefects, and mayors of the departments, 
arrondissements and communes of France, are creatures of the 
crown, and little tyrants of this kind. Bonaparte borrowed his 
idea of prefects from the practice of the Roman emperors, and it 
is one in perfect accordance with the spirit of military despotism. 
The intendants of the provinces under the old regime, the pre- 
fects of Napoleon, the satraps of Persia, and the pachas of the 
Grand Seigneur, are all the same sort of tyrants, under different 
appellations. In America, where the public agents are chosen, 
either directly or indirectly by the people, the good opinion of 
the neighbourhood is of some importance, and therefore officers 
dare not abuse their trust, nor forget the rights and feelings of their 
fellow citizens; but here in France, where they all emanate from 
the throne, and where the people have been from time immemo- 
rial, accustomed to regard them as rays of royalty, each civil offi- 
cer is but too apt to become impertinent and arbitrary, the mo- 
ment he is invested with a power, whose limits he knows are not 
exactly defined by law, nor its exercise curbed by responsibility. 
With a view of rendering the administration of justice still more 
subservient to the wishes of government, the members of the bar 
were deprived of all freedom, and admitted to it, only when their 
political opinions were in unison with those of the government. 
In this manner, says the venerable Lanjuinais, the bar, that bril- 
liant asylum of liberal doctrines and civil courage, resounded 
only with the accents of servitude, so that even since the restora- 
tion, advocates have thought it a recommendation to declare them- 



198 

tations of venality, an emulation in obedience. The trial by jury 
was retained, (and still exists,) as an engine of oppression— the 
jurors were selected by the accusing authority, and yet even this 
lever of tyranny was not found sufficiently supple to keep pace 
with the velocity of Napoleon's views, and therefore under the 
cloak of avoiding dangerous excitements of the public mind, all 
offences against the state, were reserved to be tried by special 
tribunals, or " commissions extraordinaireSy^* to execute orders 
under the semblance of equity. 

Mr Locke once said, there existed no truth which might not 
lead to errour, no remedy which might not become a poison, and 
he mighthave added, no engine of civilization, which might notbe 
converted into an agent of barbarism. Thus the press, which when 
unfettered, sheds illumination over a nation, becomes when mono- 
polized by government the most powerful instrument of debase- 
ment. The office of the Censors, whose duty it is to approve a work, 
or to condemn it to annihilation, would be useless, if it were not the 
object of their institutors to make " the worse appear the better 
reason." As there is nothing so beautiful as truth, and as nothing 
which is beautiful can hate the light, that which is true has no 
necessity for concealment. 

Le faux est toujours fade, ennuyeux, languissantj 

Mais la nature est vraifet d'abord en le sent. Boileatt. 

Hence in every country which enjoys the liberty ot the press, 
truth ultimately triumphs over falsehood, and mankind having 
confidence in the lights which fall within their observation, reci- 
procally instruct each other For the want of it in France, I doubt 
whether a single change of government, since the second year of 
her revolution, was made with the approbation of the majority of 
the nation, (the first Directory perhaps alone excepted.) A people 
who voted like those of France did for the consulate for life, (when 
Bonaparte appealed to the communes for what was not to be obtain-f 
ed from the senate,) who were actuated by the dread of consequen- 
ces, and who felt the sword of Damocles suspended, if not over their 
lives, certainly over their prosperity, cannot be supposed to have 
expressed the honest dictates ot their hearts. 

Those who reside in countries in which justice has prevailed and 
tyranny been unknown for ages, are strangers even in thought to 

* Lanjuinais. Constitutions de tous les peuples. 1 vol. 



199 

the insolence with which the agents of arbitrary ^overnwient ex- 
ercise their authority. In America and England the bench acts, 
in criminal cases, as the protector of the accused, and with an 
air of merciful solicitude, frequently cautions him against impru- 
dent declarations; but even yet in France, the angry sternness of 
the judge, resembles the unrelenting severity of a prosecutor, and 
might almost lead a stranger to imagine, that the cordemnatiou 
of the accused, was a triumph to the bench. But the most insup- 
portable part of despotism, is that retail of tyranny which comes 
from the hands of petty officers, who trample justice and innocence 
under foot, on the pretence of serving the state; and whose impu- 
punity is always secure, from the circuition of the process and 
the arrogant impatience of the authorities to which they are amen- 
able. The prefects, sub-prefects, and mayors of the departments, 
arrondissements and communes of France, are creatures of the 
crown, and little tyrants of this kind. Bonaparte borrowed his 
idea of prefects from the practice of the Roman emperors, and it 
is one in perfect accordance with the spirit of military despotism. 
The intendants of the provinces under the old regime, the pre- 
fects of Napoleon, the satraps of Persia, and the pachas of the 
Grand Seigneur, are all the same sort of tyrants, under different 
appellations. In America, where the public agents are chosen, 
either directly or indirectly by the people, the good opinion of 
the neighbourhood is of some importance, and therefore officers 
dare notabuse their trust, nor forget the rights and feelings of their 
fellow citizens; but here in France, where they all emanate from 
the throne, and where the people have been from time immemo- 
rial, accustomed to regard them as rays of royalty, each civil offi- 
cer is but too apt to become impertinent and arbitrary, the mo- 
ment he is invested with a power, whose limits he knows are not 
exactly defined by law, nor its exercise curbed by responsibility. 
With a view of rendering the administration of justice still more 
subservient to the wishes of government, the members of the bar 
were deprived of all freedom, and admitted to it, only when their 
political opinions were in unison with those of the government. 
In this manner, says the venerable Lanjuinais, the bar, that bril- 
liant asylum of liberal doctrines and civil courage, resounded 
only with the accents of servitude, so that even since the restora- 
tion, advocates have thought it a recommendation to declare them- 



202 

tification of heavy assessments; and the magnificent prospect of 
conquering Europe, made the people pay them with alacrity. 

The pressing exigencies of the state, and the poverty of its 
treasury, together with the imaginary incompatibility of a merce- 
nary bounty to soldiers with patriotism, which sprang out of the 
rage for equality in the earlier stages of the revolution, had 
given rise first to the levle en mass and requisition, and after- 
wards, in 1798, to the Conscription. The first conception of 
thi"^ desolating system is said to have been imbibed by Carnot 
from the military practice of the Romans, and was certainly 
justifiable, as a last resort for security in that dreadful hour of 
peril, when the monarchs of Europe combi ued to devastate the 
ur' appy commonwealth of France. But when the glittering 
armies of aristocratic impotence and folly, led on as they were 
by old fashiored regal imbecility, had been broken and dis- 
persed by the fiery cohorts of France, which derived their en- 
er^v from public spirit and a regular prelation of talents; and when 
the national militia were become converted into an instrument of 
offensive war, it became a grievance of such an atrocious nature, 
that I do not believe any civilized nation, whose reason was not 
dazzled and extinguished by the "grand thought," as it was 
called, of general conquest, would have submitted to it. There 
certainly never was a system (in its perversion) that lacerated so 
cruelly the domestic feelings of society; that tended so directly 
to demoralize the best virtues of our nature, or that tore asunder 
so violently all the bonds that sweeten human existence, or 
mitigate its sorrows. Every individual vvas forced, in the prime 
of his youth, to become a soldier; the student, who was accom- 
plishing himself for some liberal profession, was torn from the 
Jamp of his closet to mingle in a scene of blood and rapine— the 
mechanic, who was learning the use of tools to be serviceable to 
mankind, was forced to buckle on the sword of war— the peasant 
was torn from his fields, and forced to hand over his plough to 
his wife or his sister — the sons of the merchant were dragged 
out of his counting-house and associated with vagabonds— every 
occupation of life was suspended or sacrificed, and for what? — 
Why, to fight battles on the sunny banks of the Ebro and the 
Tagus, or to stain with blood the icy streams of the Beresina 
and the Volga! 



203 

War became at last the trade of the French; and in order to 
concentrate its agents with more frightful certainty and celerity, 
th« empire was divided into thirty divisions, each comprising 
about four departments, and each placed under the control of a, 
military government. The drafted men, or active conscripts, 
were marched off immediately for the army,— a corps of supple- 
mental conscripts was. formed, and exercised at home, in order 
to fill up vacancies from death or desertion, and another body of 
reserve was held in readiness for cases of emergency. The 
hiring of substitutes was much discouraged by the government; 
the employer was held responsible for the conduct of the person 
he had hired, and besides these difficulties, the never ceasing 
demand soon exhausted the supply of substitutes, or enhanced 
their value beyond the reach of ordinary fortunes. To prevent 
the murmurs of dissatisfaction from becoming audible, and the 
spirit of dissention dangerous, the conscripts were marched off 
to the army under an escort of gensd^armes, in single compa- 
nies, and scattered immediately through old regiments inured to 
habits of plunder and profligacy. To prevent any conscript 
from escaping, no Frenchman under thirty was allowed to quit 
his neighbourhood M^ithout a well authenticated certificate of ex- 
emption from military duty, in addition to the passport which 
every man or woman in France was (and still continues) obliged 
to have, in order to leave an arrondissement. If persons dis- 
guised their age, or mutilated themselves to escape service, the 
punishment was severe in the extreme. But the most abomina- 
ble feature of the whole code of conscription, was that which 
held parents responsible for the disappearance or misconduct of 
their children.* The laws of Draco themselves were exempt 
from that deformity. But the conscription was considered as 
the pivot on which the lever of universal conquest was to turn. 
The suggestion of Vegetius, that the first idea of the Roujan legion 
must have been inspired by a god, was exultingly applied to it; 
and the same effects were sanguinely expected to result from it 

The English impressment, with ail the aggravating circum- 
stances attending it, was not to be compared to the French con- 
scription; for, besides, that the objects of this coercion were 
comparatively few in number, and dragged only into a service 
* See Letter on the Genius and Dispositions of the French Government, 1810. 



S04 

to which they were bred, there was some chance of escape troiii 
it, and the offender only was punishable. 

The glory of France — the hope of plunder, and of unlimited 
promotion— the dread of punishment, and of family disgrace or 
ruin, together with a blind belief in destiny, produced in the 
minds of the soldiers a singular resignation to fate, and con- 
tempt of danger. Hence the sportive levity with which they 
committed crimes in foreign countries, and which curious com- 
minglement of atrocity and festive pleasure, seemed to justify 
the sarcasm of Voltaire, that his countrymen were a compound 
of the tiger and the monkey. 

Under the pretence of preventing conspiracies, and consoli- 
dating the public peace, the secrets of the post-oflB.ce were habi- 
tually violated, and a door thus opened to the clandestine ruin 
of any man's reputation, by the most despicable frauds and for- 
geries. By way of lulling the public too, into a false confidence, 
the impressions of seals were taken oflf or copied, so that when 
the secrets of the letter had been pilfered, it might be carefully 
closed up again, and like a masked spy, sent on its pernicious 
errand. Every cipher of every foreign minister was known, 
and those who did not send special couriers with their despatches, 
had them searched before they left France. By this odious 
breach of right, the foundations of epistolary confidence through- 
out the empire were broken up, and all sympathy of political 
opinion dissolved, except when it was exactly in conformity 
with the sense of the government. 

A simple but dreadful uniformity of rule prevailed over fifty 
millions of people. Ideas went forth from Paris in concentric 
circles. The simultaneous spreading of every thought it pleased 
the government to inspire, was as simple as the Lancastrian 
mode of communicating instruction. An idea was generally 
given out in the Moniteur at Paris, to be echoed by every journal 
and public functionary in the empire, under pain of suspension 
or suppression, and all classes of society were obliged to bleat 
out a repetition of it, whether they believed it or not. No ar- 
ticle of foreign news could be published, until it had been fil- 
tered through the oflBcial gazette, nor any political idea printed, 
unless, in the dextrous jargon of the times, it was in the "sense 
of the governmeut." No editor dared to acknowledge the con- 



205 

straint under which he laboured, nor even the vexatious citations 
he often received, to explain before a commissary of police, the 
incautious ambiguity of a doubtful phrase. Even books them- 
selves were subjected to the harshest scrutiny of the censors, — 
deformed by erasures, or perverted by surreptitious insertions, 
and the authors rewarded for the courteousness of their servility, 
or punished for the refractoriness of their honesty. Thus, was a 
moral phenomenon created in France, the most wonderful in itself, 
and the most appalling to the feelings of philanthropy, that was 
ever seen in a civilized land — that of a whole nation, proclaim- 
ing, as it were, ''par acclamation," what not a single individual 
believed to be true In the end, says Lanjuinais, ''un geant de 
mensonge s'eleva sur la France," The end proposed, was to 
bring every thought into the "sense of the government," whose 
interest and object it was to hold truth in captivity, to turn jus- 
tice into contempt, to deride freedom as a vision — to calum- 
niate virtue as the bauble of fools, and to eulogize the triumphs 
of ambition as the highest of glories. 

The extent of territory that Napoleon governed, and the ascen- 
dancy which the triumphs of his arms had given him over the 
neighbouring nations, rendered the escape of any Frenchman 
from his commands almost impossible. When a man became ob- 
noxious to government and eloped, a minute description of his 
person, went down through the prefects, the sub-prefects, the 
mayors and gensd'armes, to the fire side of every peasant in the 
empire. There remained not an inch of ground unscoured until 
the refractory conscript or fugitive was caught in his hiding place. 
The entire nation was entangled in a net of espionage, the most 
complicated and intricate in its nature, that was ever devised to 
hamper the moral liberties of mankind. Like the air it enveloped 
all creation, and like it was invisible in itself, but felt most sen- 
sibly in its effects. Every man locked up his opinions in the sanc- 
tuary of his own heart, for such was his dread of the venality of 
those around him, that he knew not whom to trust. The trade of 
treachery became so extensive, that the murmurs of dissatisfac- 
tion, which, in the unbending hours of delicious confidence, a man 
might let fall to the wife of his bosom were scarcely safe. As in the 
good old times of English despotism, dreams themselves were dan- 
gerous, for the idle tongue might tell them. Under the direction of 



206 

Fouche, the depth of whose malignant cunning, conjecture itself 
cannot fathom, houses are said to have been established by the po- 
lice, as snares for the imprudence of youth. In these, young men 
after steeping their reason in wine, were introduced to the society 
of women of a decent exterior, employed expressly to inflame their 
passions to the indiscretion of madness, and in an unguarded mo- 
meat, when the centinels of suspicion had left their posts, to filch 
out of them the secret sentiments of their souls. 
" I can perhaps give you a more correct idea, ot the all -search- 
ing and ubiquitary nature of espionage^ in the last days of the 
empire of France, by the relation of a particular fact, than by 
general statements. In 1813, Louis XVIII. wrote from England 
a confidential letter, to one of Napoleon's ministers, Regisaud St. 
Jean D'Angely. It was introduced into France in the bone of a 
lady's corset;* but the lady's dread of the vigilance of the police 
prevented her communicating directly with Regnaud, and there- 
fore she engaged a mutual friend to tell him , that she had something 
of deep interest to communicate. The minister recoiled with in- 
dignant exasperation at the suggestion — but when the friend was 
gone, sent his confidential secretary to see the lady, at the hotel 
du Tibre. The secretary searched the apartments, locked the 
doors, then copied the letter and burnt the original. He took the 
copy to Regnaud. who observed that walls might hear, and he 
would not therefore speak on the subject, in his own house, but 
went out into the fields near Paris for the purpose. As the object of 
this letter was to seduce him from his allegiance to Napoleon, and 
as an acquiescence in its designs might have prevented his late ex- 
ile, it is but fair to his memory, to tell you his honourable reply, 
**Tell Louis XVIII. said he, that I have long disapproved of the 
emperor's conduct, and foresee that he will ruin himself; but that 
as he has in confidence invested me with power I must discharge 
it with fidelity." 

In fact the imperial government came at last to combine the 
domestic vexation of the feudal tyrannies, with the general op- 
pression which followed the melting down of those principalities 
into large monarchies. The exemption from distant campaigns, 
which the insignificance of the baronial states afforded; and the 
relief of the subject from the toils of war, which grew out of the 
ulterior introduction of standing armies, were alike unknown to 

* Mrs. Bishop, 



207 

it. Napoleon, too, had a feverish propensity to intermeddle in 
the private concerns of every family, arising from the wish to 
create an impression that he was more necessary to France than 
France was to him. Hence, not a marriage of any note could 
be solemnized without his signature, so that not only the 
public prosperity, but the domestic peace of every individual, 
was in his hands. The retention, however, of this antiquated 
custom by the royal government, is more absurd than its revival 
by the imperial, since the former lays claim to a prescriptive and 
divine right of ruling France. 

The unparalleled pitch of prosperity to which Napoleon ulti- 
mately rose, inspired him with the desire of duping mankind 
into a belief that his abilities were supernatural — that at the very 
time he was darting from one extremity of his dominions to 
another — while he was directing the movements of a million of 
men in the field, and controlling the policy of all the cabinets 
in Europe, he could attend to the administration of the minutest 
things, — to the cutting of every canal, the opening of every road, 
and the arching of every bridge in the interiour of France. 
From this motive innumerable grand and petty decrees were 
signed for the sake of effect, not only at Milan and Berlin, at 
Madrid and Vienna, but on the battle fields of Austerlitz or 
Jena, of Wa^ram or Moskwa. 

I believe I have now very nearly run over for your observa- 
tion the bad political features of Napoleon's government, during 
the fourteen years that he swayed the sceptre of France. The 
expansion of tyranny during the greater part of this period was 
gradual but incessantly progressive. In the greener days of the 
consulate it shone but imperfectly like the glimmerings of a new 
moon, yet although checked and partially eclipsed at intervals 
by the lovely and beneficent hand of Josephine, it went on inva- 
riably augmenting in its phases until the union with the Austrian 
princess, from which time it boldly displayed its ''broad circum- 
ference" and poured down its vertical rays with an intensity 
that threatened to scorch up all the bloom and prosperity of 
France. 

A consideration of the numerous advantages which either di- 
rectly or casually resulted to the empire and to Europe, from the 
measures of Napoleon . I must reserve for some future letter. My 



208 

present purpose has been to show how, after the mad intem- 
perance of the revolution had settled down into repose, the 
patience of the French was worn out by tyranny, and how na- 
tural it was for a nation in which public opinion had lost its in- 
fluence, but in which public spirit had not died away along with 
it, to feel great dissatisfaction with its ruler and to display it on 
the first occasion without thinking of the consequences which 
might follow. The choice between domestic despotism and 
the chance of foreign servitude is so cruel an option — and for a 
people who had made such enormous sacrifices too for liberty as 
the French had done, to find themselves in this dreadful predica- 
ment, was exactly calculated I think to produce that numbness of 
patriotism which appeared in this country on the invasion of the 
allies. 



LETTER XII. 

Paris, March 25th, 1820. 

My Dear Sir, 

The character of the imperial government, which I sketched 
in my last letter, was such, I apprehend, as might justify the 
conclusion, that the French had no very strong reason to believe 
its continuance necessary to secure to them the possession of 
their property, or the enjoyments of social life. So long as 
Napoleon gratified their exorbitant vanity by conquest, they 
were flattered into submission, and fancied they received a com- 
pensation for their sufferings- But when the vast coacervation 
of kingdoms, which he had gathered under his dominion, began to 
render his sceptre too cumbersome to be wielded with its former 
celerity; and when the protracted continuance of the Spanish 
war, by presenting the unusual spectacle of victory without 
conquest, exhausted the patience of the French, and set them to 
thinking on their actual condition, is it to be wondered at, that 
they exhibited some symptoms of fatigue? This they did do; 
and it was to relieve the public mind from the lassitude which 
the dullness of his career, after his marriage with Maria Louisa 
had occasioned, as well as to crush, by one gigantic effort, those 
remains of ancient Europe which offended the newness of his 
own royalty, that made the emperor resolve on the tremendous 
invasion of Russia in the summer of 1812. No individual ever 
reached such an height of greatness as that which he occupied at 
that time; and among those who had observed the orb of his efful- 
gentfortunes inits ascent to its meridian, none could have imagin- 
ed its sudden fall from its immeasurable altitude. It is not, how- 
ever, to the causes, but to the consequences of that rapid de- 
scent, that I wish to call your attention. The destruction of 
half a million of men, carried such grief and dismay into every 
family in France and its dependencies, that nothing but the 



210 

dread of the Emperor's power, combined with the redoubled 
vigilance and activity of his police, prevented the French nation 
from rising in rebellion during the ensuing winter, and destroy- 
ing the imperial government, or limiting its tyranny. The con- 
spiracy of Mallet (the success of which would have been a bles- 
sing to Europe) failed in consequence of those causes. Unfor- 
tunately the disasters of the Russian campaign did not entirely 
destroy in France the imagined invincibleness of Napoleon. 
His overthrow was attributed to the inclemency of the season, 
rather than to the energy of the Russians. It was the doubtful 
results of the early conflicts of the campaign of 1813, that first 
encouraged the defection of his allies, and the defeat at Leipsic, 
after the desertion of the Saxons, only, that dissolved the phantom, 
of terror by which he was governing Europe. The storm then 
came on too fast to admit of a conspiracy against his govern- 
ment at home, and a sympathy was excited in his favour by that 
eloquent appeal to the generous feelings of his subjects, in which 
he exclaimed, that he had raised up kings, and they had be- 
trayed him — that he had created kingdoms and they had forsaken 
him; but that whilst supported by the French, he could never 
despair of victory. 

Napoleon has been much censured for his obstinate adherence 
to what he considered the integrity of his empire; and it must be 
admitted, that a magnanimous attachment to France would hav& 
led him to submit to her retiring within her natural boundaries, 
the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees. But he had sworn to 
preserve the empire, and it is questionable whether he Could 
have held his sceptre after a curtailment of his territories. After 
the Allies had conquered their own timidity, and ventured to 
cross the Rhine, it is sufficiently evident, that he considered it 
impossible for him to reign with honour to himself, or credit to 
the nation, without some brilliant achievement which might envi- 
ron his throne with glory. There is no doubt, that if he had ac- 
cepted the terms which were offered him at Chattillon, the mur- 
murs of dissatisfaction with his tyranny would, in the repose of 
peace, have beaten very harshly indeed upon his ears. Those 
who think otherwise mistook the seeming for the real disposi- 
tions of the French at that time. The Emperor had tired them 
out. The element on which the ark of his power floated, was 
the national vanity, and when that was no longer swollen bj 



success, the ark grounded. The efforts which the nation after- 
wards made to set it afloat, were inspired by patriotism rather 
than loyalty. It was the dread of national ruin — it was the 
shame of submission to foreigners, and. not attachment to Napo- 
leon, that opposed some resistance to the Allies between the 
Rhine and Paris. If he could have defeated those armies and 
chased them out of France, and been killed by the last ball they 
fired on the frontiers, the nation might have rejoiced, and Eu- 
rope been the happier for it. The people of this country were 
then so heartily exhausted by civil commotion and foreign war, that 
a spontaneous acquiescence in the authority of young Napoleon 
would hive followed the death of his father; and they were so tired 
of despotism, and the scheme of universal conquest, that their en- 
thusiasm would have reverted into plans of internal improvement, 
and the star of civil liberty might have been substituted by 
them in lieu of that meteor of glory by which they had been so 
unhappily misled. Fate, however, decreed it otherwise. Napo- 
leon, although playing the deepest game his masterly abilities 
ever planned, in acting offensively with his little army against a 
host of invaders on every side, forgot the absolute ascendancy of 
Paris over France. Whether he considered the march on the 
capital too desperate a resolution to be embraced by Blucher, as 
in reality it would have been, but for his interception of a despatch 
to the empress, communicating the impossibility of defending it; 
or whether he fancied the claims of the Bourbons > entirely for- 
gotten, and relied on his matrimonial connection with Austria, 
as a security for his sceptre; or whether he still counted on 
the vigorous support of the nation, I know not; — but surely it 
was a great mistake as it turned out, to order the Empress to retire 
to Orleans, if Paris should prove untenable. He stood in need of a 
powerful mediator, whose blood and rank might have conciliated 
the regards, and appeased the resentments of his enemies; and if 
Maria Louisa had been a princess of tolerable spirit, she might by 
remaining in Paris have preserved him his crown. The resolution of 
dethroning him was not taken until a week after the surrender of 
Paris, and the flight of the empress to the Loire. The former 
€vent having speedily followed the latter, has led many to consi- 
der it as its necessary consequence. The terrible sufferings of the 
9,Uies in the plains of ^i» Denis? and the ruin which would have 



212 

resulted to them from the failure of Elucher's last charge on 
Montmartre, heightened their apprehensions of the resistance ot 
the French; so that it was only after the flight of the executive 
branch of the administration, and the disposition shown by the 
Senate to get rid of Napoleon, that the emperor of Russia, assem- 
bled on the night of the 5th of April, the members of the provi- 
sional government, to inquire into the dispositions of the French 
nation. Napoleon was then at the head of 50,000 men and 200 
pieces of artillery at Fontainebleau; and if his former tyranny had 
not completely paralized the independent spirit of the French, he 
might have still triumphed over his enemies. But it was now too 
late — the loyalty and zeal of the nation were gone, and therefore 
in that hour of tremendous affliction, they exhibited the singular 
spectacle of neutrality! They were tired of Bonaparte— they cared 
nothing for the Bourbons, and were reconciled to takins; these 
back, only because it nominally saved France from the odium of 
being conquered- The senate decreed the (ZecAermce of Napoleon; 
he sent a deputation of Mareihc^io require as the condition of 
his abdication the establishment of the regency of Maria Louisa; 
she was absent; there was no one to support her in the council — > 
Talleyrand broached the new doctrine of legitimacy; Dessolles 
recommended the recal of the Bourbons, and the emperor Alex- 
ander embraced that resolution. 

It was said by Mr. Fox, in reflecting on the shameful servility, 
which followed the recal of the Stuarts, that a restoration is the 
most pernicious of all revolutions. So unquestionably it is, when- 
ever it is an act of spontaneous repentance for the imagined sin 
of rebellion, against the indefeisible right of a particular family. 
Such a revolution, not only gives a solemn sanction to past er- 
rours and abuses, but it justifies the exercise of all manner of ty- 
ranny, in order to prevent the recurrence of the like evils in fu- 
ture. But there is a vast diiference, between the voluntary unco- 
erced invitation to a king, to return to the throne of his ancestors, 
and that equivocal assent to his return, which may be produced 
by the combined influence of displeasure at present misgovern- 
ment, and the pressure of foreign bayonets. When king Charles 
went back into England, the contentment was so general, that it 
seemed, says lord Clarendon, as if the whole kingdom had gather- 
ed to meet him, to give loud thanks to God for his presence, and 



213 

to make "vows of affection and fidelity to the world's end."* But 
the restoration of Louis was in a more enlightened age, and under 
circumstances of a very different character. All men seemed to 
rejoice to be sure, and none to reflect on the probable consequen- 
ces of the change; yet all enthusiasm for the divine right of kings 
was gone, and therefore Louis may be said to have alighted, with, 
a fiery torch in his hand, upon the soil of France, when it was 
covered with inflammable particles. 

The invitation which the emperor Alexander gave to the provi* 
sional government, to establish a constitution for France, suita- 
ble to the advanced condition of her civilization, appeased the 
alarms of the nation, and flattered it with the hopes of better 
times. By a miraculous concurrence of accidents, legitimate 
kings were become seemingly the friends of liberty; and as a good 
countenance is said to be a letter of recommendation, the new fan- 
gled doctrine of Legitimacy, was ushered into the world under 
the most flattering and delusive auspices; 

'"^So spake the false dissembler unperceived;'* 
"And from his horrid hair shook pestilence and war.'* 

The Senate availed themselves of the opportunity, and drafted 
a liberal plan of government; a sort of social contract between 
the nation and its future kings, which if adopted and observed 
might have saved a world of trouble to both parties. But five and 
twenty years of adversity and exile, had not destroyed in the 
minds of the Bourbons, the vision of their divine right to govern 
France. They mistook the public acclamations, on the return of 
peace, for rejoicings at their restoration — began to wonder at them- 
selves, for having remained so long in England whilst France was 
longing for them— and yet, after rejecting the constitution, fell 
into the errour o^ publicly thanking, "next after God, the Prince 
Regent of England," for the recovery of their throne. This de- 
claration wounded the vanity of the French, who were desirous of 
persuading the world, that it could not have been accomplished 
without their acquiescence at least; and I have no doubt, it shut 
up more hearts against reconciliation with the Bourbons, than 
even the rejection of the constitution itself. The emigres, who, as^ 
the French said, had come into France in the rear of the baggage 
waggons of the allies, and some of whom, it must be confessed 

* History of the Kebcllion, bookxvi. 772. 
28 



214 

made a very ludicrous appearance, advised the king to adopt no 
written constitution at all, but to tread in the good old footsteps 
of St. Louis, and the Grand Monarque. 

He was however too wise to follow their giddy counsel entire- 
ly, and therefore published before entering Paris, at St. Ouen, a 
declaration of the principles which were to form the basis of a 
constitution, to be submitted to the Senate and Corps kgisUUif, 
If the public mind was a little shocked by the delay of the declar- 
ation, and the dating it in the 19th year of his reign; the dissa- 
tisfaction was considerably augmented at the publication of the 
charter, which was less liberal than the declaration itself; and 
which instead of being presented to the chambers for ratification, 
was abruptly bestowed ["^fait concession et octroi,''^) on the nation. 
Yet notwithstanding these little chills of disappointment, wliich. 
blighted some of the blossoms of hope, the bloom of expectation 
was at that time large and luxuriant; for the French imagined 
that as they had passed through the horrors of a dreary winter, 
they had a right to anticipate a brilliant spring and a glorious sum- 
mer. The liberals were pleased with the prospect of a freer go- 
vernment; — the jacobins were satisfied to have their titles and 
plui.der secured to them; and the ultra-royalists, together with, 
the mass of foreign nations, considered the restoration as an en- 
tire re-establishment of everything on the footing it had occupied 
in 1789, without ever reflecting that the public mind had been 
most powerfully agitated, and called forth to a degree of deve- 
lopement hitherto unknown. It was in fact a sort of jubilee sea- 
son in politics, in which imagination covered over with flowers 
the thorny and the rocky path of the future, without ever reflect- 
ing on the suggestion of Milton, that the seeds of good and evil 
came out of the apple of Paradise together, so that their plants 
are always united. Perhaps no hereditary monarch, in the deli- 
cate and difficult conjuncture of circumstances in which Louis was 
placed, could have been expected to act with greater moderation 
and good sense than he did; but the errours into which he fell 
were nevertheless the cause of his subsequent expulsion from the 
throne. As it is my wish to point out these to you, not through 
the prism of passion, but as well as possible through the impar- 
tial telescope of posterity, I shall have to dwell particularly on 
all the important actions, and principles of his government. 



215 

The charter which the king in the free exercise of his royal 
will, as he expressed it, gave to France, declares that Frenchmen 
are all equal in the eye of the law; shall all pay taxes in propor- 
tion to their fortunes, and be all equally admissible to civil and 
military employments. It allows freedom of conscience and wor- 
ship to all religions, although the Roman Catholic shall be that of 
the state; it guarantees personal liberty to the subject, under such 
qualificcitions as the law may prescribe, and the liberty of the 
press, with such restrictions as the law may impose. It abolishes 
the conscription — declares property inviolable, and commands an 
entire oblivion of all votes and opinions, given prior to the res- 
toration, ft vests the whole executive power in the king; gives 
him not only the right of making peace or war, but that of appoint- 
ing every public agent of administration in the kingdom, togeth- 
er with, not only the absolute veto, but the sole right o^ proposing 
laws, and of issuing such decrees and ordinances as may be ne- 
cessary for the execution of the laws and the safety of the state. 
The legislative power is vested in the king, with the chamber of 
Peers and the chamber of Deputies. The deliberations in the cham- 
ber of Peers are secret; the members take their seats at 25 years 
of age, but cannot vote till they are 30, with the exception of the 
princes of the blood, who vote at 25, but who cannot take their 
seats in the house unless called up each session, by an order from 
the king. It, only, has cognizance of the crime of high treason, of 
offences against the public safety, and of the criminal offences of 
its own members. A member of the chamber of Deputies, must be 
at least 40 years of age; and pay a direct tax of 1000 francs per an- 
num, unless there should not be 50 persons in his department 
paying that amount; and one half the members from each depart- 
ment must reside in it. This body is elected for five years; (one- 
fifth of it being annually renewed,) by electors who must be 30 
years of age, and pay at least 30uf. direct contribution.* The pre- 
sident of the Deputies is selected by the king, from a list of five 
candidates, presented by the chamber; and their deliberations are 
public, except when five members request the contrary. The cham- 
ber is convoked annually by the king, who can prorogue or dissolve 

*The 258 members o{ ^^rrondissement on\y are now elected by those electors. 
The 172 members of department are elected by one-fom-lh of the highest contri 
butors of the said electors; ^vho arethns doubly represented. See law of June 1S20, 



216 

it at pleasure, but in the latter case must assemble another in three 
months. The ministers are declared responsible for their conduct, 
and may be impeached for treason or extortion by the Deputies, 
and tried by the Peers; they may be members of either chamber, 
and have a right to a seat at all events, and to deliver their opi- 
nion, whenever they choose on any question. The judges are de- 
clared irremovable during good behaviour — the trial by jury is 
preserved, and no extraordinary commission or tribunal can be 
created, unless the government fudges prevotal courts necessary. 
Confiscation of goods is abolished, and all existing laws not contra- 
ry to the charter continued in force. 

Such are the principal features of the charter which Louis 
XVIII. solemnly bound himself and his posterity to observe, and 
which notwithstanding its manifold imperfections and ambigui- 
ties, was a more liberal constitution, than the French had enjoyed, 
except during one or two short intervals since 1792. The manner 
in which it has been interpreted and carried into execution may 
furnish matter for future reflections. I cannot forbear suggesting 
however that it has been regarded in a very opposite light by dif- 
ferent parties, and that this contrariety of opinion is likely to dis- 
compose for a long time, the public serenity of this country. 
Those who consider the charter as a concession from the legiti- 
mate proprietor of France, to a nation of refractory a) d unduti- 
ful subjects, find ample cause to exalt the moderation and mag- 
nanimity of Louis, far above those of any prince in a resembling 
situation. Those on the contrary who regard it in the light of a na- 
tional compact — as the fulfilment of the conditions upon which 
the nation consented to receive back upon the throne, a race of 
princes, who had been subsisting for five and twenty years, on the 
eleemosynary bounty of foreign powers, consider it the mere skel- 
eton of a constitution, and as one of the most imperfect acts of jus- 
tice, that ever requited a splendid election to power. The first 
of these parties would abolish the charter, and the last would en- 
large it. Thus from the same fountain, two political streams have 
been let otF in opposite directions, with great violence and fury* 
Their channel however, is in the periphery of a circle, so that 
they must ultimately meet in collision. Happy indeed will it be 
if before that tioie, one of them shall have so spent itself by leaks 
and evaporations, as to prevent the violence of a concussion from 



217 • 

breaking down the embankments of reason, and flooding the fields 
of France once more with the waters of bitterness and tribula- 
tion. 

But although the manner of granting the charter and the stipu- 
lations of it, were sources of ultimate discord, the joj was consi- 
derable in the honeymoon of the restoration Bright visions of 
the future danced before the imaginations of the French and 
elated them too much. Hence the sudden recoiling of the pub- 
lic affection, from the Bourbons, has been ascribed by careless ob- 
servers to the levity of the French character, and not to its real 
cause, the erroneous policy of the court. The English are cer- 
tainly not a fickle people, and yet you may remember that some 
jarrings of discontent disturbed the harmony of allegiance even 
in king Charles the IPs reign, although he was brought back by 
the wishes of his people, and beheld on his first arrival the flame 
of loyalty kindled on the altar of repentance and fanned by the 
wings of affection. Few kings who are born to their station 
know themselves or their duties. Lord Clarendon, I think, 
mentions in his memoirs, that when king Charles arrived at Can- 
terbury he was highly shocked by a liberty which Gen. Monk 
took of presenting him with a list of persons whose favours with 
the people entitled them to be made privy counsellors. The 
impertinence was deemed the more audacious too, because out 
of seventy individuals whose names were handed in, only two, 
(Southampton and Hertford,) had constantly adhered to the 
king in his adversity. In truth, Charles II. returned into Eng- 
land with the idea that he was to govern for his own pleasure^ 
and not for the good of the realm; so tliat instead of erasing 
from his memory all recollections of the injuries he had received, 
he made them principles of action; and hence originated that 
train of mischievous policy which was pursued by his successor, 
until it awakened the nation, and caused it to drive the Stuarts 
from the noblest inheritance on earth. 

Louis XVIII. too, although a man of much sounder judgment, 
and better character than Charles, came back with the same anti- 
quated notion of divine right; and he did not therefore regard the 
decree of the senate, which declared that Napoleon had forfeited 
the crown, by the violation of his compact with the nation; nor 
the subsequent one, which made a conditional offer of it to the 



218 

Bourbons. He declared, by the mouth of his chancellor, two 
months after his return, that he held his crown "from God and 
his fathers only.'' The vanity of the monarch here wounded the 
pride of the people, and, said an eloquent Frenchman, "alors 
nos cceurs se sont reserres." It was that declaration of the king 
which caused the French to think that the Bourbons had neither 
learned, nor unlearned, any thing from adversity. 

Appearances, it is true, were at that time deceptive, even to 
wise and sagacious men. The apparent satisfaction of the 
French at the downfall of the conqueror; the unbounded elation 
of the royalists at the suddenness of their unexpected triumph? 
and the harmonious aspiration of all the nations after peace, 
seemed to justifv the belief, that a political millenium was at 
hand, and that those who fancied themselves delegated by divine 
Providence to govern France, might safely do so after their own 
fashion. It was the confidence inspired by these circumstances, 
that led the king into some impolitic measures, and among 
others, the substitution of the white, for the tri-coloured or na- 
tional flag and cockade. Symbols are of no use beyond the 
ideas they inspire; and as the tri-coloured flag was associated in 
the minds of the French, with what was most glorious in their 
history, it was an act of exceerling vanity to wound their pride 
by rejecting it. If the most gallant monarch France ever saw, 
sacrificed his religion to the opinion of his subjects, his de- 
scendant might have been surely justifiable in sacrificing the 
lily to the eagle. Yet it would have required almost superhuman 
abilities, to have acted with perfect propriety, in the situation 
in which Louis was placed; and it must be admitted, that few 
legitimate princes would have acted more discreetly. 

There were then many good people in France, who shud- 
dered at the name of liberty, because they regarded the revolu- 
tion as a practical illustration of its eftects, and who therefore 
exerted themselves to sway away the king's mind from the 
adoption of free principles. The flock of Emigres were of 
course hostile to freedom, because they regarded it as the cause 
of their misfortunes. The imperial courtiers and the success- 
ful jacobins were covetous of retaining their disgraceful honours, 
ana therefore combined with the emigiis in recommending the 
adoption of absolute government. The phrase legitimate king 



I 



219 

in contradistinction to one by the will of the people, was luckily 
invented by Talleyrand who knowing the potent spell of a 
happy phrase in France, from having seen the nation succes- 
sively mad after ''liberty and equality," after a ''republic, one 
and indivisible," and finally after ''honour and glory," now 
fancied it would become equally enamoured of "legitimacy and 
Louis le desire." 

After the charter was established, there was nothing but a most 
religious observance of it, and an unrelenting effort to put the 
other institutions of the kingdom in harmony with it, that could 
have atoned for the ungracious manner in which it was given, 
or have calmed that painful inquietude, nay, contagious vivacity 
of apprehension for the future, which began to pervade all ranks 
of society. If the government, instead of causing the legisla- 
ture to spend its time in the discussion of idle and unmeaning 
frivolities, had called its attention to the urgent necessities of 
the kingdom; to laws for tlie security of person, the liberty of 
the press, the independence of elections, the responsibility of 
ministers, the recruitment of the army, the trial by jury, the 
choice of municipal officers, &c ; if this, I say, had been the 
course heartily pursued by the government, the sparks of alle- 
giance which existed every where, might have been fanned into 
a flame, the heat of which would have produced a fusion of all 
parties into one. But on the assembling of the Chambers in 
June, 1814, a party, headed by some ministers, and supported 
by the favorites of the palace, formed itself, and assumed the 
appellation of royalists, when no adversaries of royalty ap- 
peared. This faction entered a formal protest against the 
charter, as a violation of the imperishable rights of future 
kings, and did not disguise a wish to see it subverted. Secret 
societies were formed, says Count Lanjuinais, of nobles, priests, 
magistrates, and office-hunters, who derided the charter as a 
mere second edict of Nantz, to be abolished at pleasure; these 
elubs eulogized the old regime, spoke contemptuously of the pre- 
sent, and panted after what they called a real restoration. 

The ministry usurped the legislative right of making laws, 
and issued them under the name of ordinances, for the revi- 
val of old laws, or the violation of those which did not suit 
their purposes. An unresponsible council of state, not recog- 



2S0 

nized by the charter, was created aud afterwards converted 
into a tribunal, whose members were removeable at the royal 
pleasure. The charter had provided that the judges appointed 
by the king should hold their office during good behaviour, but 
in order to elude this guarantee of liberty, it was determined 
to leave the present incumbents in office indefinitely, so that a 
dread of removal might teach them servility; and as these 
judges, in spite of their dependence growing out of this mise- 
rable subterfuge, might not be sufficiently subservient for the 
despatch of state business, special tribunals, (the odious cours 
prevotales of the empire,) were re-established. The liberty of 
the press was next destroyed, a monopoly of journals given to 
the ministry, and by a retroactive law, the approving the na- 
turalization of all adopted citizens was given to the king. One 
third of the population of France is estimated to be interested 
in the national property sold during the revolution, and yet 
the government had the imprudence to let their censors of the 
press suggest the propriety of confiscating those estates back 
again. Negociations were next opened at Rome, for a new Con- 
cordat, which was to annul the existing one, and to leave the 
purchasers of church property dependent for their estates on 
the will of the Pope. In the Chamber of Peers, it was pro- 
posed ta tax the nation, or the proprietors of confiscated pro- 
perty, three hundred millons of francs, to indemnify the emigres 
for their losses. The minister of war proposed to erect a monu- 
ment to the French who fell at Quiberon, in arms against France, 
and a general of the Vandeans, says Lanjuinais, went into 
Brittany, to hunt up such of his old companions, as might be 
worthy of honorary or pecuniary rewards, for the zeal they had 
shown in "the furious close of civil butchery" The republi- 
can, not the Jacobin, members of the Senate, and the Institute, 
were eliminated out of those bodies, and in spite of the oblivion 
commanded by the charter, a free exhumation of all revolu- 
tionary votes and opinions was allowed to the royalist journals. 
The Jesuits were encouraged to march over the country to 
preach intolerance and despotism, to the annoyance, and alarm 
of three millions of protestants. The proud and haughty car- 
riage of the noblesse, both at court and in the provinces, and 
their afiected disdain of the new nobility, served to offend and 



221 

alienate many from the new government. The giddiness of 
their vanity, was deaf to the remonstrances of reason, and an 
Insulting superiority was every where assumed. When lady 
Jersey asked a lady of the old noblesse, the names of certain 
dutchesses at court, she replied, ''Nous ne connoissous pas ces 
femmes — ce sont des mareshales." The legion of honour was 
continued, but its pride was soon wounded by a profuse multi- 
plication of its numbers, and an ordinance soon after put in 
question the support hitherto given to the female orphans of such 
of its members, as had died for their country. The army 
was next offended by a retrenchment of the expenses of the In- 
valides; by the disbanding of a thousand of the mutilated in- 
habitants of this hospital, because their native countries no 
longer belonged to France; and the sending fifteen hundred 
others on pitiful pensions to their homes. The places in the ecole 
militaire were given to the "faithful noblesse," whose names 
were new to those who had achieved the hundred triumphs 
of France; whilst the pride of the new nobility was injudi- 
ciously shocked, by the ennobling of the family of Georges Ca- 
doudal, who had come into France with the notorious de- 
sign of assassinating the emperor. Public schools were like- 
wise erected, into which none but the children of ancient 
families could be admitted; and the spirit of civilization, too, 
all over the world, was next offended by the re-establishment of 
the slave trade. 

Such were the imprudencies and follies of the new govern- 
ment in the first year of the restoration; and yet the French are 
stigmatized as a fickle and capricious people, for showing no en- 
thusiasm in support of it, when Napoleon returned from Elba. — 
That the king was beguiled into these aberrations from sound 
policy by many amiable and respectable feelings, I have no 
doubt; but when the pride of a great nation is wounded by the 
acts of its government, it seldom stops to inquire into the pri- 
vate motives which might extenuate the of!ence. 



S9 



LETTER XIII. 



Paris, March 2M, 1820. 

My Dear Sir, 

In my last letter I endeavoured to shew you that the first 
emotion of the public mind in France on the restoration of the 
Bourbons was that of astonishment mingled with pleasure; and 
that the vague inquietude which ensued was fretted into fermen- 
tation only bj the vexations and alarms which the new govern- 
ment most injudiciously scattered over the country. I wished 
you to observe how the imposition of the charter had prevented 
it at first from captivating the regards, or entwining itself around 
the affections of the nation; and how afterwards the negligent 
execution, (not to say wanton violation) of its articles, produced 
a general discontent which was hindered only from exploding by 
the want of a rallying point, and by the ignorance in which the 
discontented were of their own numbers. It is, in fact, exceed- 
ino-ly difficult in France to collect the sentiments of the general 
public on any subject. The channels for a free circulation of 
opinions do not exist, and the slavery of the press, by rendering 
contradiction impossible, causes all reports to be heard with dis- 
trust. Hence the nation when full of discontent is like an elec- 
tric machine when charged^-all looks quiet and free from menace 
the moment before the conducting body approaches for the shock; 
and hence the origin of that reputation for political fickleness 
which the French have acquired from the exilition with which 
their public resentment has several times exploded. 

No nation was ever trained to greater celerity of thought and 
action than the French under the imperial regime, and of this 
the new government should never have lost sight. But instead 
of attempting to keep alive the vivacity of the public mind by 
the fascinations of liberty, they substituted the narcotick phan- 
tom of legitimacy in lieu of Bonaparte's goddess of glory, which 



223 

so dulled the nation that it was ready to plunge even into revo- 
lution, in order to escape from the yawnings of ennui. This 
new-fangled legitimacy is at best, in a civilized community, but 
a rotten basis of government, and yet the Bourbons chose to rest 
their throne upon it. The pretension, however, might have been 
harmless, if other stays and butments had been provided to sup- 
port the arches ot its foundation; but these were neglected, for 
the king was assailed by such a gang of anti-constitutionalists, 
that he had not time to think of them. — Well mig-ht he doubt in- 
deed whether the charter would avad him any thing when he 
saw it railed at, pot only by the emigrants, but by that gang of 
apostate imperialists who had betrayed the despot without re- 
nouncing despotism, and who were now glad to swell the exility 
of the court party and to proffer to a constitutional monarch 
their dexterity in the Machiavelian obliquities of tyranny. As- 
sailed as Louis XVIII. was by these crafty and designing politi- 
cians, and prone, as he must have been from education and the 
circumstances of his life, to lean in favour of his plundered and 
exiled nobles, we ought, perh^tps, more to admire his forbear- 
ance, than condemn his errors. But as I wish to shew you that 
the political mutability of the French has resulted rather from 
misgovernment than versatility of character, it is indispensably 
necessary to call your attention to the manner in which the ru- 
lers of France have fallen off from allegiance to their own en- 
gagements. Now, that Napoleon broke all his promises to the 
French, no one pretends to deny, and that the royal government 
was estranged from the path of rectitude by evil counsellors, we 
have the acknowledgement of the king himself. Neither remem- 
bered that the best mode of ensuring stability to a government is. 
that pointed out by Carnot in his noble protest against the as- 
sumption of the imperial purple by Bonaparte; '^C^est cPetre 
juste; c'est que la faveur ne I'emporte pas aupres de lui sur les 
services; qu'il ait une garantie contre les depredations et I'im- 
posture." 

Unluckily for Louis XVIIL there did not prevail any harmony 
of opinion in his first ministry. His favourite companion in ex- 
ile, the Comte de Blacas, was nominally at its head; but he had 
neither the skill nor ability necessary to hold the reins with di- 
recting energy, and he therefore left his associates to drive with 



224: 

the zig-zag irregularity of their own particular fancies. He had 
been so long an idle secretary, governing France in imagination 
at Hampton Court, that the toils of office were fatiguing to him; 
and without having ever done any thing to gain the confidence of 
the natirn, he now laboured under the imputation of venality in 
distributing the crosses of the Legion, and this suspicion alone 
unfitted him to be the prime minister of France. Nor did the 
public apprehension stop there. He was generally believed to 
be leagued with two other ministers, the Chancellor Dambray 
and Ferrand, in a scheme for the entire restoration of the old 
reo;ime. The king's brother. Monsieur, and his two sons, the 
Dukes of Angouleme and Berri, were also imagined to belong 
to that anti-constitutional faction, and as they were the heirs to 
the crown their supposed sentiments cut off one of the most power- 
ful supports of the government^ — that vain and delusive calcula- 
tion on the virtues of the heir-apparent, which usually, in here- 
ditary monarchies, opens the fountains of hope on every future 
scene, and drowns the agony of present distress in the balm of 
expectation. 

Another of the ministry, the Abbe Montesquieu, was a man 
of intelligence; remarkable, in every stage of his career, for the 
amenity of his manners, the moderation of his opinions, the fide- 
lity of his principles, and the seductive powers of his gentle 
eloquence. But he had not that presuiiiptuous audacity of cha- 
racter which dazzles and over-rules the minds of factious men, 
and which assumes, in the cabinet, an ascendancy that can never 
be acquired in unsettled times, by mere rectitude of principle 
and benevolence of design. He had announced that Louis was 
come back, not to punish, but to forget the revolution; and that it 
"was his intention to select the agents of lus government from 
amoag those who were qualified by education and habit for the 
discharge of business, rather than from among those favourites, 
who, after being debilitated by the idleness of the old regime, 
bad been lounging for twenty years in the inactivity of domestic 
life. Some impolitic measures, it is true, were partly ascribed 
to him, and among others the law of the press; but no one denies 
him to have been infinitely amiable in social life, and to have 
shown (though the poorest of the king's ministers) an instance of 
abnegation very rare in France, in refusing to accept a present 



225 

of one hundred thousand francs out of the treasury, which, under 
tne gracious appellation of indemnity, was given to all the min- 
isters on the dissolution of the royal government. 

The other members of the cabinet, Louis, Berenger, and 
Beugnot, had served the revolutionary governments — the first was 
a silent financier, the second a man of zealous research, and the 
third had worked his way through all the entanglements of fac- 
tion without reproach or indignity. Of Talleyrand, I will only 
observe, that his great abilities, and his agency in achieving the 
restoration, entitled him to the royal favour, but that he had, 
by the treacherous versatility of his conduct, and the aptitude of 
his nature for intrigue, lost all reputation in the nation, except 
for wit and selfish sagacity. Marshal Soult was probably 
brought into the ministry to flatter the military, and to give a 
martial frown to the countenance of France at the Congress of 
Vienna. He was endowed by nature with the most consummate 
abilities for war, but has never hesitated to bend with supple re- 
verence to any government that flattered his ambition, nor to 
unhinge himself from any engagements that embarrassed or im- 
peded the selfishness of his career. He was supposed to have 
panted under the imperial government for the crown of Portugal 
from love of tyranny; and suspected to have foraged in the blood 
of the English at Toulouse, after he knew that the war was done. 
But be those charges true or not, his conduct as minister to 
Louis was bad enough. He spoke contemptuously of the charter, 
as a useless piece of parchment; suggested the monument of 
Quiberon; and the persecution of Gen. Exceimans. 

Such were the men selected by Louis XVIIL to conduct his 
government, and who, instead of tranquillizing the distractions 
of the nation, augmented its discontent by their own petty di- 
visions; and went on reeling and staggering under the v/eight of 
government, until they brought it to the ground. Some new and 
impolitic step, which provoked or bruised the vanity and impa- 
tient patriotism of the French, was taken every day, until the 
variety of dissatisfaction produced a fever all over the country 
in the autumn and winter of 1814. Many well disposed and 
sensible men saw that the existing state ot things could not last, 
unless the Bourbons identified their interests with the interests 
of the revolution; nor could any thing have concealed this noto- 



g26 

Hous fact from the Princes themselves, except that delusive me- 
dium of vision which is created around a throne by servility and 
adulation. The signs of a new hurricane were visible every 
where, and yet the royal pilots never thought of reefing a sail.— • 
It was perhaps the burst of indignation which followed on the 
heels of Bonaparte's abdication, as much as any thing else, that 
blinded them to the actual situation of France, and prevented 
their perceiving, that when the novelty of the restoration was 
over, the French might reflect that much had been lost, and 
little gained by that event, and might be thus led to fancy the 
royal family, what they had for many years been taught to be- 
lieve them, the gates that had barred out a flood of glory from 
France. 

In that perilous state of things, a free press might have 
warned them of the predicament in which they stood; but they 
had imprisoned it; and by this they gave wings to every sinister 
report and silly rumour that the idle or" the designing chose to 
hatch, in order to unsettle the public mind. For, as many 
wished for change, and many apprehended it, the sole business 
of many persons was to propagate extravagant stories, which 
would never have been believed, if any reliance could have been 
placed on the newspaper contradiction of them. 

Napoleon had actually appeared so much less popular in France 
after his 'abdication, than he had been previously imagined to 
be; and had been rendered so ludicrous by the accounts pub- 
lished of the disguises he had assumed to avoid being massacred 
on his way to Elba, that all apprehension of his re-appearance on 
the great theatre of the world fell asleep. An hysterical laugh 
of ridiculous joy had succeeded universally to the late defe- 
rential shiverings of fear. That Napoleon had neglected to 
stab himself, like a true tragedy hero, on the ruins of the burnt 
Orangerie^ at Fontainebleau, was a fertile source of sneers for 
political popinjays, and even graver men began to regard it as 
an evidence of the pitiful selfishness of his ambition. As for 
the governors of Europe, they seemed to have forgotten him, or 
to recollect him only to regret the "liberal terms," they had 
granted him. Not one suspected that he was couching in 
order to spring with more certainty on his quarry — "Qu'il avait 
recule pour mieux sauter. 



S27 

In the treaty of Fontainebleau, it had been stipulated, that 
Napoleon should, in consideration for abdicating the crowns of 
France, Italy, &c. receive for himself in sovereignty, the Island 
of Elba, with an annuity of two millions of francs from France; 
and that the dutchies of Parma, Guastala, and Placentia, should 
be given to the Empress and her son. These grants could 
scarcely have been considered large in comparison with the 
sacrifices he made, and the capacities of resistance which still 
adhered to him; for with an army of 50,000 men at Fontaine- 
bleau, with one of 30,000 near the Loire, and the hardy legions 
of Soult in the south; with the peasants of Lorraine and Alsace 
in arms, and the possible support of the rest of France, the un- 
prosperous issue of the campaign was by no means certain. 
But even allowing these conditions to have been liberal in the 
extreme, they should still have been held sacred; for, to violate 
them was perfidious if not impolitic. Yet it is notoriously 
known, that the congress at Vienna hesitated about Parma, and 
agitated the question of removing Napoleon from Elba — that 
the government of France, under the miserable pretext, that 
she was not a party to the convention, and that the payment had 
been only promised by her sponsors, eluded the payment of 
it — that the estates of Napoleon and his family were sequester- 
ed, and no means spared to reduce to beggary the man who 
had recently commanded the treasuries and the destiny of Eu- 
rope. Common sense might have suggested, that when a valiant 
and forgiving people like the French, beheld the hero of their 
revolution, and the gallant companions of his exile in danger of 
starvation, from the want of good faith among his enemies, the 
dissatisfaction with him might melt into compassion, and this 
compassion kindle a sympathy in his favour. But no — common 
sense was a vulgar guide, and its dictates too rough a curb to 
rein in the fantastic caperings of ministerial pride. To them 
the sun of Napoleon's prosperity seemed set for ever; and when 
they deigned to think of him, it was with a half formed wish, 
that he might attempt the invasion of France, in order that they 
might destroy him, and finish the counter-revolution, which in 
their opinion the king had only begun. 

Time rolled on, however. Napoleon seemed safely lodged in 
Elba. The august monarchs and their glittering suites made a 



summer jaunt into England, where, among other stupendous 
sights got up for their entertainment, they were regaled with a 
naval battle on the Serpentine River, and much edified, no 
doubt, to discover how easy it was to capture an American 
fleet — in Hyde Park. After this, they set to studying the new 
system of political anatomy, and galloped off to Vienna, to dis- 
sect Europe, and consolidate her old despotisms. But whilst 
this was going on, and the public mind of France fermenting 
with excess of chagrin, the imperial eagle took flight from Elba, 
alighted at Cannes, shook, by the rustling of her wings, the 
whole continent of Europe, and then flew from ''steeple to 
steeple, even till she lighted on the towers of Notre Dame at 
Paris." 

The impression which has generally prevailed in England, 
that Napoleon came back in consequence of a conspiracy in his 
favour, is totally destitute of foundation. All the researches of 
the royal government, after the second restoration, not only 
failed to establish the existence of the alleged invitation, but 
tended to confirm the assertion of Napoleon, that his return 
was an inspiration of his own, bottomed on the belief, that a 
sudden sally of brilliant heroism might, in the discontented 
state of mind in which the French then were, revive their en- 
thusiasm in his favour, and recover for him his crown. The en- 
terprize was exceedingly well timed, and although some have 
censured it as precipitate, was executed at the proper moment. 
The people were ripe for rebellion in France; the congress of 
Yienna had not taken any solemn engagements in the settle- 
ment of Europe; considerable dissatisfaction prevailed at the 
changes it proposed; and all the nations were beginning to be 
irritated by the disappointment of their hopes. The wounds 
which Napoleon had inflicted were not done smarting, it is 
true, nor were the allied armies disbanded; yet if he had 
waited longer, an insurrection would have occurred in France 
without him, and the most splendid achievement of his life 
would have been without its lustre. 

If any conspiracy had been formed in his favour, it must have 
been by the army, or by the public, or by the government agents. 
If by the army, a general declaration in his favour must have im- 
mediately occurred on his landing; if by the public, some proof 



229 

of it must have been discovered by the police, and military tribu>- 
nals of 1815 — if bj the treachery as was alleged of the minister 
of war, Soult, and other functionaries, would they not have placed 
troops favourable to him, near the place of his landing, in order 
to secure its success? Now, it is well known that the army did 
not in any part of France declare in his favour, on receiving the 
news of his debarkation — that General Carsin at Anlibes repulsed 
his demonstration on that place, and captured his advanced guard; 
that most of the generals who fell at Ligny and Waterloo, offer- 
ed their services to the king, even after Napoleon had reached 
Lyons; that general Marchand, who commanded at Grenoble, 
(and under whom were Labedoyere and Mouton Duvernet, who 
were afterwards executed,) showed so much fidelity to the Bour- 
bons, that the king appointed him president of an electoral col- 
lege after his second return; and that in fact not a soldier declar- 
ed for Napoleon for six days after his landing, when at tne vil- 
lage of Mure he rode chivalrously up to the line of the out-posts 
of Grenoble, and asking whether there was any soldier who wished 
to take the life of his Emperor, was answered by a shout of <'vive 
I'empereur!" 1 am aware that tame and common place spirits 
have represented this act which electrified the imagination of 
France, as a charlatan trick, arranged for the purpose of theatri- 
cal effect; but every circumstance which time has brought to light, 
strengthens the belief that it was a resolution inspired by des- 
pair. 

The circumstances, which attended the march of Napoleon, 
clearly proved that the feelings of the French nation on the oc- 
casion were almost neutral. Independent of the printed details of 
his journey, I have heard it asserted by one who accompanied him 
from Elba, that he did not gain a recruit for the first six days, 
and was disappointed in every attempt to rouse the enthusiasm, 
of the people; — that the public temper was so equivocal that he 
often feared to enter a town which might be strong enough to 
check his march — and that up to the moment he met the troops ^ 
from Grenoble, he and his followers were in a state of the most 
heart-rending anxiety, as to the result "of the expedition. The 
French people in fact, had not had time to forget the evils of the 
late war, and considered the restoration of the emperor as the 
precursor of another sanguinary conflict. To the merchant en.- 

50 



2S0 

gaged in extensive schemes of foreign traffic, a war was terrible 
in the extreme— to the agriculturist, dependant for prospeiitj on 
the facility of procuring labour, and a market for his produce, 
the prospect of intestine confusion was pregnant with ruin;— and 
whatever may have been the attraction of the manufacturers to 
Napoleon, from the advantages formerly derived from his prohi- 
bitive system, it must have been much weakened by the dangers 
of revolution or foreign invasion. Such were the circumstances 
which damped the ardour of practical men, whilst those of a spe- 
culative turn recoiled with equal apprehension from the remem- 
brance of his former tyranny. But on the other hand, there was 
no disposition to oppose him, and therefore his landing shook the 
thinking part of the nation with astonishment, although it was 
heard by the royalists with as little dread as a distant peal of 
thunder in a serene day. Madame de Stael describes very vivid- 
ly her own foreboding apprehensions, in perceiving a forgotten 
eagle still couching in a corner of the staircase of the Tuilleries, 
as she ascended to the first levee of the king, after the news of 
Bonaparte's debarkation; and she sketches with equal felicity, the 
silly joy of the gilded pageants of the court, and the arrogant dis- 
dain with which they derided the idea of the invader's success. 

Because Bonaparte succeeded in winding his little band through 
the mountains of Provence and Dauphiny, for 100 miles without 
opposition, it has been asserted that he had a secret understand- 
ing with some of the chief officers of state. There are persons so 
fond of mystery, that they delight in none but occult and extra- 
ordinary causes; persons M^ho,like the wolf in the fable are always 
determined to find, for devouring the lamb, some reason better 
than the real one. 

That the French nation in general, had taken great umbrage 
at the proceedings of the court — at the continuation of the ^'droits 
reunis" which Monsieur had promised to abolish, and at seeing 
France stripped of all her conquests, even those parts of Belgium 
which they regarded as essential to her compactness,— and that 
they were casting their eyes about for a fit person to- wear the crown , 
is I believe unquestionably true. But the Due d' Orleans and not 
Napoleon, was the man on whom their regards were generally 
turned. It was conjectured that his being of the old blood royal 
would prevent his elevation to the throne from wounding the sen- 



281 

sibility of the legitimates — that his co-operation in earlier scene^s 
of the revolution would identify him with its creations, — and that 
the princijile of election, on which his sceptre must lean would 
make him scrupulously regardful of the public rights. But either 
he lacked abilities to conduct a great enterprize, or from chariness 
of principle disdained the aspirations of an ambition, which to be 
indulged, must have trampled on gratitude. Posterity may be di- 
vided in opinion on the merit of his revelation to the king of the 
purposes of his friends; for whilst some shall eulogize it as an act 
of illustrious loyalty to his sovereign , others will reprobate it as a 
pusillanimous abandonment of the interest of his nation, and of a 
chance ofdoinggood to mankind. Yet there are so few instances of 
princes who have refused to plunge a nation into distress to ad- 
vance their own views, and there is something so amiable in a 
generous sympathy for a family, whose misfortunes had gone far 
to atone for its past errours; and there is something so noble in 
respecting the repose of the best king that has set upon the throne 
of France (except Henri,) since Louis XII.; that I shall always 
think the believed deportment of the duke of Orleans, in that de- 
licate affair, entitles him to the distinguished admiration of all 
good men. 

Had the wishes alone of the French been consulted, in the choice 
of a king, Eugene Beauharnois would have probably united more 
suffrages in his favour than any other individual. The respect 
and affection which the chivalrous humanity and uniform recti- 
tude of his conduct had won for him, was heightened about this 
time by the death ot his mother, who of all the individuals that 
have figured of late in France, is remembered with the most gen- 
eral esteem. But then there was some powerful apprehensions 
restraining the attempt to indulge this inclination; and in the 
mean time some circumstances occurred to reconcile the nation 
to Napoleon. A report that he had been foully betrayed, took off 
from him the odium of defeat — the immensity of his fall awaken- 
ed some compassion for his disaster; — the sublime resignation ex- 
pressed in his farewell address to his guard, made the sins of his 
ambition seem the errours of his judgment — and rumours of the 
activity with which he devoted his time to the improvement of his 
little island, led many to suppose his character had been changed. 



238 

In this state of fluctuation and doubt were the French when 
he precipitated himself on their shores. The royalists and apos- 
tate imperialists were, many of them, as I have already sug- 
gested, pleased at this, because they fancied thev now had him 
secure. But the telegraphic despatch of his entrance into Gre- 
noble abated the intemperance of their joy; and although they 
were again elated by the reports of his capture and death, their 
happiness was short lived, for the news of the fall of Lyons soon 
came to throw them into consternation, and then the defection of 
Ney's army completed their panic terrour. From that moment all 
was confusion in Paris; and it was somewhat remarkable that the 
only persons who seem to have rallied wuth zeal round the Bour- 
bons after this terrible crisis, were the Liberals, a set of men, who, 
so far from having enjoyed favour, had been treated with greater 
contumely, under the royal than under the imperial regime. The 
first emotion ot the liberal party, says Constant, one of its most 
eloquent members, on hearing of Bonaparte's landing was to de- 
plore his return, and their first desire to prevent his success. 
Notwithstanding the fresh remembrances of the faults of the new 
government, not one of them hesitated, because all recollected 
that under Bonaparte, "I'egoisme etoit considere commele mobile 
de toutes les actions; Pexaltation en tout genre etoit tournee en 
derision sous le nom d'enthousiasme; Pinsouciance erigee en 
sagesse; et le plaisir du moment declare I'uniquebut de la vie." 
The hearts of the friends of liberty sickened at the thought of 
a regime, under which the eclat of military glory and the en- 
joyments of power- — a disdain of freedom and a conviction, that 
the human species was devoted to self-interest, obeyed nothing 
bu| force, and merited nothing but contempt, were leading 
principles of action. The old marquis de la Fayette, who had 
shown a disposition to aid the royal government on the restora- 
tion, as fiiendly to liberty, but who had been repulsed from court 
by the clouded countenances of the princes at his appearance 
there, now hastened up to Paris, as if reanimated by the ardour 
of youth, and exerted all his influence with the Chamber of De- 
puties to organize a vigorous system of defence. Day after day, 
even till the king's flight from Paris cut the last thread of hope 
for the Constitutionalists, did the press teem with eloquent exhor- 
tations to arms, from the pen of Benjamin Constant. But the 



233 

vacillations of the government had divided, as Bacon expresses 
it, the action of *'men's bodies from their souls." The spirit 
of the public was paralized by discontent, and they looked on 
the passing scene with the calmness of disappointed credulity, 
or with the jeering jocularity of indifference. Every effort to 
rouse them was without effect. The king and princes hurried 
down to the Chamber of Deputies, and in a very solemn and 
impressive manner swore an eternal fidelity to the principles of 
the charter. But the season in which this engagement might 
have availed much, was passed. National enthusiasm, like 
private affection, when once destroyed, loses the capacity of 
being excited again. This public declaration, therefore, rather 
did harm than good, for it betrayed the perplexed condition of 
the king's af!iiirs, and was an indirect acknowledgement of the 
past infraction of the charter. The president of the Chamber, 
M. Laine, who is a fast friend to the Bourbons, but not a libe- 
ral, endeavoured to add solemnity to these acts of royal resi- 
piscence, and^cheer the langour of the public, by the fervour of 
his eloquence, and the liberality of his assurances. Whatever 
may have been, said he, the faults committed, this is not a 
time to examine them; but when France is delivered out of her 
present danger, she shall have every guarantee necessary to 
give security and duration to the liberties of her people! **Si 
la terre Fran^aise engloutit son oppresseur, des jours brillants 
se leveront sur un peuple reconcilie avec son gouvernement." 

The necessity of doing something to cosiciliate the nation^ 
was urged with vehemence by the liberals, and the king sug- 
gested at one time the dissolution of his obnoxious ministry, or 
the expulsion of its despotical members, to make room for per- 
sons of more popularity; but the ardour and alacrity with which 
the soldiers declared for the emperor, and the rapidity of his 
triumphant march, left him no leisure to try this experimient. 
The despotists, too, were hostile to the expedient, and would 
sooner have seen the government overthrown, than owing its 
preservation to their political opponents That party had at- 
tributed the consolidation of the imperial government to Fouche, 
and, anteriour to the landing of Napoleon, had not scrupled to 
recommend this Jacobin regicide to the king as a fit agent to ac- 
complish their tyrannical purposes. They now first redoubled 



234 

tlieir efforts to bring him into power, and then suddenly prevail- 
ed on Louis to arrest him. The good old king was thus so dis- 
tracted by the wrangling of his discordant courtiers, and the va- 
riety of their factious views, that he remained almost inert, when 
every hour was the mother of some great event, which under- 
mined the foundations of his throne. The expressions which 
his advisers rashly uttered, and the measures they imprudently 
took, recall Clarendon's description of the silly jealousies of the 
courtiers of Charles II. "They were so divided by private 
quarrels, factions, and animosities; — or so unacquainted with 
each other, or which was worse, so jealous of each other; — the 
understandings of many honest men were so weak and shallow 
that they could not be applied to any great trust; and others who 
wished and meant very well had a peevishness, frowardness, 
and opiniatrety, that they would be engaged only in what pleased 
themselves, nor would join in any thing with such and such men 
whom they disliked." 

In proportion as the danger thickened, the jealous passions of 
the Constitutional and Ultra parties increased. Day after day 
was lost in idle recrimination. The Liberals contended that the 
only means of reviving the spirit of resistance was a change of 
ministry, the completion of the Chamber of Deputies, and the 
raising certain popular men to the peerage; whilst on the other 
hand the Ultras recommended a dictatorship, the suspension of 
private rights, the arrest of suspected persons, and the erection 
of arbitrary tribunals. The one party wished to conciliate the 
public, the other to frighten it. The friends of the charter, says 
M. Constant, had united themselves to the royal government in 
order to escape from a chief invested with unlimited power, and 
were therefore unwilling to see the king usurp the same author- 
ity and practise the same violence.* They considered the na- 
tional lukewarmness the result of ministerial duplicity, and that 
every stretch of authority would only tend to aggravate the evil, 
since despotism was never known to heal, like the lance of 
Achilles, the wounds it inflicted. 

At that time there prevailed too among all parties a distrust of 
the integrity of the minister of war, (Soult) and, however un- 
founded it might have been, there was something impolitic at 

* Lettres sur les eent jours. 



235 

least in retaining him in office. The king had promised to dis- 
miss him as soon as he heard of Bonaparte's landing, but was 
prevailed on by the Ultras to postpone doing so, until three days 
after the surrender of Lyons, when he unwisely appointed the 
Due de Feltre (Clarke) in his place. Perhaps no measure could 
have saved the royal government after the champion of France 
was on shore, yet there is strong reason to believe that the de- 
fection of Ney, which was fatal to it, might not have taken place, 
if it had thrown itself with alacrity into the arms of the nation, 
instead of conceding the necessary points so slowly as to leave 
the work of alienation to go on, until the minds of all were re- 
conciled to revolt. 

"Mais c'est une imprudence assez commune aux rois 

D'ecouter trop d'avis et se tromper au choix; 

Le destin les aveugle au bords du precipice. "1-CoiiirEii.n:. 

The difference between the Ultras and the Liberals on this 
occasion was that the former sacrificed their country to their 
party, and the latter sacrificed their party to their country. 
The king was undoubtedly hurried from Paris against his will 
When, according to the assertion of Chateaubriand at Ghent he 
had forty thousand men at his disposal; and hence in the exacer- 
bation of party passion, the Liberals, who opposed that measure 
went so far as to charge their adversaries with the voluntary 
abandonment of France, in order to return in the rear of the allies 
and to precipitate themselves with fiercer vengeance on their 
prey. The Ultras alleged in justification of their flio-ht with 
the king into Belgium, that a vast and terrible conspiracy was 
organized throughout France, and ready to open its tremendous 
jaws on them and the royal family. There were many circum- 
stances at the time, no doubt, which gave the semblance of truth 
to that phantom of terror; but the vain efforts which that faction 
has subsequently made to substantiate the reality of such a plot 
can be ascribed only to a wish to find some excuse for the ridicu- 
lous panic which made them strike their armed heels 

"Against the pauting sides of their poor jades. 
And seem in running to devour the way." 

If any such conspiracy had existed, it must surely have been 
brought to light by the trials of Labedoyere, Ney, Lavalette, 
Druot, Cambronne, &c.; for who can believe that a nation should 
hate conspired against its government, and that this govern. 



236 

ment, after its restoration, with the most searching police on 
earth at its command, and a million of foreign bayonets to sup- 
port it, should have been unable to procure a single witness to 
prove the fact? That there were some individuals who secretly 
sighed for Napoleon's return, and who even spoke of it in the 
circle of the ex-queen Hortensia, I by no means pretend to 
deny; for who can suppose, that an Emperor, possessed, as he 
was, of such subduing powers of mind in society, and who had 
raised up so many families to distinction, could have gone into 
exile under the pressure of such untoward misfortunes, without 
carrying the regrets of a few along with hiiii? But the restless 
velleity of a handful of disapppointed men is not the conspira- 
tion of a whole people; and a government which alienates public 
affection by the tortuous irregularity of its course, may fall by 
desertion, as well as by conspiracy. The descent of Bonaparte 
was, in fact, the extempore adventure of a desperate man, who, 
perceiving that the friends of the Bourbons had, by working 
about like moles under the ground, unsettled the foundations of 
their throne, imagined that it might be thrown down by a blow 
linexpectedly and audaciously given. The Emperor's language 
to Benjamin Constant on his return, when it was his interest to 
circulate a belief that France had recalled him, confirms my sug- 
gestion. "^'I came," said he, ""without intelligence, without con- 
cert, and without preparation, holding the Paris journals, with 
the speech of M. Ferrand in my hand. When I had seen what 
is there said on the straight line and the crooked line, on the na- 
tional domains and the army, I said to myself, * France is mine.' " 
The event realized his expectation. The royal and the impe- 
rial scales stood balanced in public opinion, till the flight of the 
king lightened the one, and the sword of the Emperor caused the 
other to preponderate. ''The news of the occupation of Paris," 
wrote the Prefect of the Hautes Alpes, ''has ranged our popula- 
tion on the side of Bonaparte."* "All resistance is vain," said that 
of Toulouse, "for the ancient throne of the Bourbons is fallen 
since its august chief has quitted France." In fact, the spirit of 
resistance to Napoleon may be said to have mounted into the 
king's carriage and galloped off along with him. Of the three 
bonds of loyalty which tie the hearts of subjects to their sove- 

* Lettres aur les cent joui"s. 



2B7 

reigns, love, fear, and reverence, Louis XVIII. had not bad 
time to win the first; he had not the martial energy which mio-ht 
have imposed the second; and whatever portion of the last lie 
may have possessed at the time he made the noble declaration, 
that old and infirm as he was, he could not die more respectably 
than in defence of his crown, he lost it by his precipitate flight. 
By this he divided his cause from that of France, and finished 
the triumph of his adversary. The pithy reply of Constant to 
the libellist who impeached his integrity for not burying himself, 
on the 20th of March, under the ruins of the throne he had so 
vehemently defended on the l9th, expresses well the transition 
of opinion which the measure produced— "C'est que le 20, 
j'ai leve les yeux, j'ai vu que le trone avait disparu, et que la 
France restait encore." 

I have heard a distinguished countryman, who was present on 
that occasion, say, that the Parisians looked on the change of 
the occupants of the Tuileries with incredible indifference; 
with the calmness of spectators, rather than the enthusiasm of 
actors. But on the ensuing day, after men had had time to 
recover from the astonishment which the change produced, the 
crowd sent forth, whilst the Emperor was reviewing the troops, 
a burst of applause, which was echoed back so like thunder 
from Montmartre, that one would have imagined he could have 
conquered the world. Innumerable men, in fact, who would 
have adhered to the Bourbons whilst they remained in France, 
and renounced foreign aid, went over to Napoleon the mo- 
ment they were gone, and even took up arms against them, when 
they saw the banner of the lily borne along by the black eagle of 
Prussia and the double-headed monster of Austria; by the Rus- 
sian bear and the lance of St. George. 



LETTER XIV. 

Paris, March SOtJi, 1820. 
My Deau SiRj 

It is still a question in France, whether the Liberals, after 
they discovered all opposition to the Emperor was over, should 
liave retired from all active agency in the affairs of the new go- 
vernment, or have glided off to the frontiers after the king, as 
the suspected auxiliaries, ''Cortege dedaignee" of the royal fac- 
tion; or whether they siiould have rallied round Napoleon, in 
order to mitigate the severity of his government, and protect their 
country from invasion or dismemberment? With whatever dif- 
ficulties, however, venal and subtle politicians may here choose 
to invest this question, posterity will, I presume, be of but one 
opinion on it; for, if I mistake not, the time is approaching when 
civilized nations will be of accord, that allegiance is due to one's 
country rather than to an individual man. The embankments of 
habit and authority may yet hold out for a time against the sur- 
ges of reason and truth; but the sea of common sense is perpe- 
tually swelling; its waves rise higher and higher every day on 
the strand of error, and they render every hour some of the old 
inscriptions of prejudice less legible. 

The support of Napoleon, when the independence of France 
became inseparable from the maintenance of his throne, did not 
necessarily imply an affection for his person, nor an approbation of 
his principles. The true wisdom of a patriot does not consist in the 
pursuit of that which is most beautiful in the visions of theory, 
but of that which is best in the actual condition of circumstances 
in which his country is placed. The choice between the probable 
loss of civil liberty, and the certain loss of national indepen- 
dence, is a cruel option to one who loves his country; but I pre- 
sume there is no man, that has the soul of a man, who would 
hesitate in his election on such an occasion. This alternative must 



239 

iiave presented itself to every reflecting mind during the hun- 
dred days; for whatever might have been the liberality of Napo- 
leon's professions the moment he emerged so gloriously out of 
the winter of his adversity, it was but natural that the French 
should apprehend his relapse into tyranny. 

When the king was gone — the chambers dissolved, and the em- 
peror in the Tuileries, a gang of subjects, who had boasted to the 
Bourbons, of the cunning dexterity with which they had served 
Bonaparte, in order to betray him, re-appeared at the palace, and 
after outraging decency a second time, by proclaiming); their new 
perfidy, advised Napoleon to adopt his old tyrannical system of 
government. In this state of things, whilst surrounded by those 
base politicians, ''qui n'inspirent aux rois que des mceurs tyran- 
niques," he might have hesitated a moment what course of policy 
to pursue. His nature, and twelve years habit inclined him to 
despotism; but he remembered that in his former prosperity he 
had relied in vain on terror, and that the popularity of the 
Bourbons had daily declined, after they began to substitute force 
for principle. Hence he concluded, that the best means of rous- 
ing the enthusiasm of his subjects, would be to profess a respect 
for their rights. But such was the natural repulsion between his 
character and liberty, that no hearty union could exist between 

Othem- The coalition, which followed, was kneaded together by 
the leaven o{ necessity^ and hence there was so much of distrust 
in it, that the bone of public confidence may be said to have been 
calcined from the very beginning. During every hour of the hun- 
dred days, the exfoliations from it grew more alarming. Tlie 
momentary enthusiasm which was kindled by his sublime exploit, 
and by those liberal proclamations which charmed France into 
submission, does not controvert the correctness of this position- 
although it might have caused him in the end, to relapse earlier into 
the heresies of his former life, as he mistook the approbation of his 
promises for an attachment to his person. When the constitution, 
he had ordered to be drafted, was prepared in such a manner as 
to fill up the gaps and flaws wiiich had yawned so offensively on 
the nation, in the late charter, he hesitated and refused to accept 
it, and thus betrayed the hopes he had awakened. He (demand- 
ed that the arches of absolute power, which had supported 
his government before, should supi^ort it again; and in his 



240 

''•additional act to the constitutions of the empire," submitted 
onij to such modifications as fell short of public expectation, 
threw a damp on public confidence, and caused the wave of po- 
pularity which was buoying up his throne to retire from around it. 
Hence the French supported him with less zeal than he expect- 
ed, and he found himself wanting in the balance against his ene- 
mies. Nor ought he to have expected more, for as he had chosen 
to divorce affection from duty in the hearts of his subjects, he 
might have foreseen the oscitant submission which followed his 
defeat. ''La nation fran9aise n'attaque point son governement; 
mais elle s ecarte et il tombe." 

At the same time, however, that 'Hhe additional act" of Na- 
poleon deserves our censure, for the suspicion it awakened of the 
sincerity of his respect for representative government, it must be 
acknowledged to have approached nearer to the liberal system 
which the French deserve and desire, than the royal charter. It 
made the Peers hereditary, and more than doubled the chamber 
of Deputies, whilst it made the members eligible at 25, and gave 
it the appointment of its own president. It made the session of 
each chamber public, and gave each the right of proposing laws, 
as well as of interrogating ministers on the course of their policy. 
It declared the judges irremoveable; abolished the censorship of 
the press, and secured the right of petition to the subject. Thesy^ 
and a few other concessions might have satisfied France, if Na^^ 
poleon had not been impolitic enough to revive certain parts of 
the imperial government which were remembered with displea- 
sure. As soon as his chamber of Deputies met he perceived this, 
for they resolved immediately on the revision of his "act," which 
provoked him so violently, that if, in that critical state of affairs, 
when rebellion was threatening him from within, and invasion 
from without, he had dared to usurp absolute power, he would 
have taught them aiesson of obedience. But he then saw the ne- 
cessity of temporizing, and in a fortnight he was brought, by des- 
tiny, to the condition of a private man. 

If the Allies had let him alone, he might have yielded to public 
opinion; but after they had made a moyement against him, it was 
all over with liberty in this country; for if he had succeeded in 
beaing them, he was ready 'the moment he felt himself firm on 
the pedestal of victory to exclaim, *'by my sword I won my 



241 

autboritj, and with my sword I will maintain it " That such would 
have been liis conduct in the event of success, is 1 think pretty 
clear, not only from his nature, hvift from his evident willingness 
to digrace liberty by patronizing such liberticide scoundrels as 
Fouche, and Merlin, and Barrere, &c. If he had never favoured 
these hyenas, during the period of his ascendant felicity, one 
might be disposed to admit that the perilous condition of his af~ 
fairs, extenuated, although it could not excuse their present em- 
ployment. The seeming reform of his political opinions would 
have been more clearly evinced by the rejecti(»n of those slippe- 
ry jacobins, and he ought therefore to have avoided them, as their 
coalition with him, only served to revive the recollection of his 
past obliquities. 

When he discovered war to be inevitable, his wisest policy 
would have been to resign his sceptre; for when France was 
full of intestine discord, and her whole circumference encircled 
by foreign bayonets, a terrible energy was necessary, and this 
he had so abused before, that as emperor he could never hope 
to excite it again. As dictator he might have done more, for 
the contest might then have appeared national in the eyes of the 
multitude. But Bonaparte was not a man from whom such a sa- 
crifice to patriotism could have been expected. "Les habitudes 
du despotisme ne se perdent guere." In his early life he had dis- 
dained the illustrious example of V^ashington, and I fear it is a 
law of our nature, to grow less generous with age. I have heard 
one who knew him in his prosperous days, and who continued 
personally devoted to him in exile and adversity, observe, that 
although he had no doubt Napoleon would, notwithstanding the ar- 
bitrariness of his temper, have submitted to legislative control, if 
the allies had not attacked him, he would scarcely have done so 
after being victorious over them. I must beg leave however to 
suggest that this suspicion stands contradicted by the most respect- 
able testimony. Men of infinite acuteness and unquestionable ve- 
racity, and who were habitually inimical to him in his great career, 
were of a ditFerent opinion. ''I believed and I still believe," said 
Carnot, (whilst the vengeance of the Bourbons was yet suspended 
over him,) 'Hhat Napoleon came back with the sincere desire of 
preserving peace, and of governing in such a manner as would 
have closed the train of our calamities, by suffering the resources ol 



24S 

ijie state to be turned to the encouragement of industry, the as- 
suaging the condition of the indigent and the perfecting a system of 
national education." M. Constant, xyhose political abilities are of 
the first order, and who had been formerly exiled by Napoleon, for 
the rectitude of his free principles, states that the emperor, in a 
conference with him in April, neither attempted any deception, as 
to the nature of his intentions, or the condition: of his aflfairs.— 
He says, that Napoleon spoke to him with that grandeur of ex- 
pression, and large disdain of petty artifice, which might have 
been expected from one whose victories were unparalleled, and 
whose browns were shaded by immortal laurels. Without laying 
any claim to the merit of conversion to new principles by the les- 
sons of adversity, or to the honour of fostering liberty from incli- 
nation, he inquired rapidly, but with all the impartiality of philo- 
sophical indifference, into what might best suit his interests. He 
observed, that although the nation had seemingly resumed a taste 
for constitutions and harangues, it was evident from the precipi- 
tate joy, with which they hailed his return, that they wanted no- 
thing but him; and that as for the noblesse, he had always seen 
them wince when his saddle pricked them, and considered their 
attachment to him as the fidelity of expedience. That the people 
on the contrary loved him from congeniality, and detested the 
nobles so bitterly, that they had never wanted more than a sig- 
nal from him to annihilate them. ''I never hated liberty, said he, 
but put her aside because she obstructed my views. I never op- 
pressed the nation from pleasure, but from great designs. I wish- 
ed tlie empire of the civilized world, and absolute power was ne- 
cessary to me to secure it. But since I cannot be an universal 
conqueror I desire peace; and am convinced that for the govern- 
ment of France alone, a constitution may suit better, both the pub- 
lic and my son. I owe my sovereignty to the people, and must 
gratify their caprices. As I cannot make France the mistress of 
the world, I will make her the fairest portion of it. If I am to 
struggle with Europe for existence, nothing but liberty will tempt 
the French to support me. They shall have it then. '''Des discus- 
sions publiques, des elections libres, des ministres responsables, 
laliberte de la presse — Je veuxtout cela!" 

The talents of Bonaparte were so superior to those of any other 
man, that it was difficult for him to bring himself to submit to con- 



243 

trol. It is said, he never was overcome in argument, and that no 
minister ever succeeded in turning him from any measure, by 
urging objections to it. His force and sagacity of mind were such 
that he was able not only to devour the objections of his oppon- 
ent, but to turn them against him. The only way to stagger 
his confidence was to state a strong idea, with peremptory bold- 
ness, and when he had torn it to pieces, to express the same 
opinion with brevity and firmness, but without exaggeration — 
This might disconcert him, for when his mind had no other 
game to run after and destroy, it was disposed to stop short, 
to wheel about and examine the ground it had run over. By 
this operation, it is said by some one (I think M. Constant) 
that his sagacity was so instinctive that he would discover 
new objection^, which had not been suggested to him, and thus 
begin to feel himself on the opposite side from his inclination. 
Madame de Stael, who knew him when the orb of his fortunes 
was yet a crescent, observes that he was the only man in con- 
versation with whoin she felt a difficulty of respiration — that he 
seemed "plus ou moins qu'un homme," and that .his words, like 
a cold and cutting sword, froze in wounding. Carnot is said 
to have been the first to discover his unparalleled genius, and to 
have made a singular prediction to a diplomatic gentleman who 
now holds a distinguished rank in the world, at a dejeuner a la 
fourchettew\\ichwa.s given to him by the Directors, before his de- 
parture for the army of Italy, in '96. Bonaparte gave to his counte- 
nance on this occasion that look of "marble indifference" which he 
Gould assume at pleasure, said little, and retired early from 
table. When he was gone, the gentleman near Carnot observed 
to him, that his young general was at least accomplished in the 
art of keeping his thoughts to himself; to which the latter re- 
plied, "That young man, sir, who sat opposite, is born to pull 
down and put up empires." 

The atrocious vengeance with which the Congress of Vienna 
denounced Napoleon, olfended every honest mind in France. — 
No matter what may have been his former sins, he was then, by 
the recognition of all the powers, sovereign of Elba, and as such 
had a right, by the laws of nations, to invade any country that 
violated its treaties with him. That his abdication of his crowns 
was ou certain stipulated conditions, and that his enemies, when 



244) 

they discovered the shallowness of his popularity in France, re- 
pented of having allowed him such liberal terms, and chose to 
forget them and to violate them too, can scarcely be denied. W hat 
apology then, is there for that declaration of outlawry, by which 
they invited an assassination of him; or does the panic precipita- 
tion with which they issued it and then dispersed from Vienna, 
palliate, much less justify, such a disdain of the morals of the age? 
If they and magnanimity had not been strangers, they might 
have remembered how dift'erent was, in the language of Cor- 
neille, the conduct of Cornelia, who had experienced great 
wrongs from the hand of Crtsar, but who, in revealing to him a 
conspiracy to kill him, exclaimed; ''I wish for your ruin, but I 
would intercept with my heart the blow of an assassin, because 
A-^our death would not then be a punishment, but a crime. — Si je 
veux ton trepas, c'est en juste ennemie." 

For the honour of human nature, I rejoice that the brother of 
the Duke of Wellington felt it his duty to declare solemnly in 
the British parliament, that his great kinsman was struck with 
horror, when h^ heard the interpretation which was put on that 
proclamation Yet it must be admitted, F^ink, that a man of 
his great sagacity and rectitude, was wanting to himself in not 
examining the nature of the outlawry before he signed it. There 
are two other acts of the Duke, which have impaired the clarity 
of his glory; and which, tt is to be hoped, he will not suffer to go 
down to posterity enveloped in mystery. I allude to his refusal 
to intercede for Ney, and to a late vote in the House of Lords. 
Ney's treason admits of no apology, and may have m.erited pun- 
ishment. But if he might have escaped out of France, as it is 
believed he might, and if he remained under an idea that he was 
protected by the Convention of Paris, he ought not to have been 
shot. To say that the royal government was not bound by a capitu- 
lation entered into by its re-establishers, the Allied Generals, 
is the most shallow subterfuge ever invented by the worshipper,^ 
of tyranny to cover the obliquities of crime. It is one, the Duke 
of Wellington would disdain to countenance; and therefore, as 
there is something so beautiful in leaning on the side of mercy, 
and as the death of Ney, since the allies were to remain in 
France, answered no end but that of vengeance, (as may be in- 
ferred from the escape and late pardon of Lavalette,j the world 



I 



245 

is entitled to some explanation of the motives of the Duke, for 
his unamiable silence and reserve on that occasion. 

The other act of Wellington which has surprised his admirers, 
was his sending over his proxy, on a late occasion, from France, 
to record his vote, when it was not wanting, against the emanci- 
pation of the Catholics of Ireland. As he kne>^^ there would be 
a great majority of the Lords against it, and as he could not be 
present to hear the reasoning on either side; as it was his native 
land which claimed relief, and as his own glory had been built up 
in part by the valour of Catholic soldiers, one would think he 
might have abstained from an act, which, if loyal to his sovereign, 
was uniilial to his country. His name is one of the few which must 
inevitably go down to future ages; and whatever may be the con- 
fidence of his friends in the rectitude of his mind, they should 
take care not to let his reputation descend with suspicions, 
which, if confirmed by time, would tarnish its lustre for ever. 

It has been much believed in foreign countries, that the army 
only of France was attached to Bonaparte, and that the body of 
the nation secretly regretted his success As European nations 
are organized, no revolution can take place without the consent 
or concurrence of the military; and I much question whether^the. 
cabal of despots will not hereafter lay hold on this circumstance 
as a pretext for intermeddling in the internal affairs of every na- 
tion; and the prevention of any change. If the soldiery of France 
were all so eager to maintain Napoleon, how does it happen that 
of the twenty old Marechals, whose names had been rendered 
familiar to fame by the victories of twenty campaigns, that there 
were, but, perhaps two, Soult and Ney, on the field at Waterloo? 
Davoust, it is true, was in the ministry; Brune was in service; 
and the gallant Suchet commanded the eastern frontier; but 
where were Moncey, McDonald, Augereau, Massena, Berthier^ 
Marmont, Oudinot, Victor, Bessieres, Serrurier, Gouvion St. 
«Cyr, Lefebvre, Jourdan, Mortier, Kellerman, &c. If these men 
were conspirators to bring back Napoleon, why were they not on 
horseback on the 18th of June? Why were not the six grand 
columns of the French commanded, each, by a marechal? Why 
was the left wing directed by the King Admiral Jerome, and why 
was Grouchy left alone at Wavre? The young generals fought 
valiantly, no doubt, at Waterloo — perhaps the chivalry of 

SB 



France never shone brighter than on that day; but I presume it 
cannot be denied, that many of them were comparatively new 
actors on the stage, and that there never was an army, which 
stood more in need of that contingent self-confidence and energy, 
which are communicated to young troops, especially by great 
names. 

In truth, there prevailed a considerable difference of opinion 
in France during the hundred days. Many who would have 
supported Napoleon with enthusiasm, if they could have confided 
in his promises, were rendered lukewarm by seeing that he re- 
tained the right of confiscation, and threatened, when he felt 
his will contraried, to make his opponents feel the arm '*le vieux 
bras" of the Emperor. There are several circumstances mentioned 
by M. Constant, which evince a strong resilient propensity in Na- 
poleon for his old system. That he would, however, if the al- 
lies had let him alone, have given France a better government 
than she ever had, in order to gratify the public, and that he 
would have entered into a very liberal coalition and commercial 
intercourse with England, in order to render constitutional Eu- 
rope stronger than despotic Europe, there is, I think, no doubt. 
As, the interests of England had been forgotten or sacrificed at 
the Congress of Vienna; as Russia, Austria, and Prussia, as well 
as the minor states, had been suffered to aggrandize themselves 
in territory, wealth and population; and as England only had 
surrendered some of her acquisitions, without receiving even 
a commercial privilege, common sense ought to have induced 
her to avail herself of the present opportunity of gaining some- 
thing. But unluckily for the real prosperity of England, the 
vanity of Lord Castlereagh and his coadjutors had hammered 
them into a sort of identity with the Legitimates, and therefore 
they determined to fight Bonaparte, right or wrong. Whether 
tli^y did not embrace a cloud instead of a goddess, I am willing 
to^eave to posterity to determine. 

^ Before the Emperor's departure from the army, his brother Lu- 
cien, who has been as uniformly distinguished for probity of heart 
and attachment to liberty, as for the brilliancy ot his elocution, 
the dexterity of his address, and the amenity of his manners, sug- 
gested the propriety of leaving some one at the head of the go- 
vernment, and the gratification the appointment would afford 



247 

him. But Napoleon, who thought Lucien too much of a republi- 
can, and who was already irritated by the independent spirit of 
the Corps legislatif, is said to have replied, '*you might as well 
ask me to take the crown off my own head and put it on yours."— 
The new legislature was in fact, (notwithstanding the calumnies 
with which the friends of feudal and monastic tyranny have tra- 
duced it,) remarkably well composed. One or two ignominious 
jacobins, and a dozen or two chameleon politicians do not justify 
the imputations which have been cast on it. 

Napoleon says, that after his arrival in Paris, he deliberated 
on the propriety of commencing hostilities instantly with, 35,000 
men. The English and Prussian forces were then weak and 
scattered; Wellington was at Vienna, and Blucher at Berlin. 
But against so hardy an adventure there were many powerful 
considerations to deter him. The French desired peace, and would 
have condemned the rashness of an offensive movement. The pub- 
lic opinion in French Flanders was too much divided to justify a 
sudden removal of the garrisons out of the fortresses of that *'iron 
frontier." The Due d'Angouleme was still endeavouring to rouse 
the courage of the royalists in the south, and the expulsion of the 
whole Bourbon family was essential to prevent civil war. The 
allies too, had after the first conquest, proclaimed a willingness 
to let France chuse her own governors, and might now perhaps 
be induced to yield to an unequivocal expression of her wishes; 
and even if they should not, there v^as some chance by being 
moderate, of seducing the Emperor of Austria from the confede- 
racy. These last hopes, it is true, proved fallacious after the 
movement of Murat in Italy; but this is not a sufficient reason for 
condemning him for entertaining tlicm. 

Napoleon also states,* that when there remained no longer any 
hope of maintaining peace, he canvassed in his own mind the re- 
lative advantages of resting entirely on the defensive at home, or 
of attempting to dissolve, by a hurricane attack, the cloud that 
was gathering against him. By waiting for the allies, he might 
have augmented and consolidated his forces — trained and accus- 
tomed them to their commanders; completed the fortifications of 
Paris and Lyons; settled his new government; selected his ground 
of defence, and inspired the nation with the resolution of despair. 

* See the iJth book of his memoirs. 



248 

But this plan of defence, would have left his enemies time to em- 
body a; million of men on his frontiers; would have abandoneu to 
devastation all the eastern and northern departments of France; 
and would have deprived him of all resource in case of defeat. 
Besides, a victory was necessary to prevent a rebellion in France, 
to confirm the fidelity of the wavering, and to reconcile all par- 
ties to the war. The defeat of the British and Prussian armies 
was particularly desirable, because it would give Belgium an op- 
portunity of declaring for him; because it might have overthrown 
the British ministry, and brought the whigs who had opposed the 
w^ar into power, and because it would have enabled him to reinforce 
himself by detachments; to advance with a triumphant army to the 
Rhine, and prevent thejunction of the Russian and Austrian forces. 
He therefore embraced the resolution of attacking the allied army 
in Belgium, and he made his preparations for it so skilfully, that 
but for a few unprosperous incidents, he must have succeeded in 
this enterprize. His army amounted to 140,000 men, all ani- 
mated by the best spirit, and commanded by gallant young 
ofiicers, all of whom perhaps, except Bourmont, did their 
duty. Of this oflBcer, it is said, that after behaving well in 
expostulating with Ney, against his treason to the king, he re- 
tired, and then solicited, and obtained an appointment from the 
emperor, whose confidence he abused, by absconding to the 
enemy, by whom he was borne back to Paris, to be the witness 
against that ill-fated marshal. 

The insurrection which broke out in La Vendee, was a disas- 
trous accident for Napoleon, for it compelled him to withdraw 
20,000 men from his army of attack; and the inclemency of the 
weather which preceded the battle of Waterloo, was perhaps not 
less injurious to his fortunes, than the snows of Russia. Without 
pretending to enter into the details of the campaign; or to inquire 
into the comparative abilities of the two great captains who con- 
ducted it, and on which subject men yfet awhile judge after na- 
tional prejudices, I cannot forbear making a remark or two on 
the battle, before I come to suggest the eff'ects of it on the French 
nation. 

Bonaparte states it to have been his intention to overthrow the 
Prussians and English simultaneously on the 3 6th of June, and 
attributes his failure in accomplishing it, to a halt of the left wing 



249 

of his army under Ney, for some hours, on its march to Quaitrc 
Bras, in consequence of a distant cannonade at Ligny. He was 
so rejoiced however, in having defeated Blucher and separated 
him from Wellington, that he saw but little danger except from 
their reunion under the walls of Brussels, where they would have 
had the forest of Soignies in their front. When he perceived there- 
fore, that Wellington had taken a stand in front of the wood, he 
was in great haste to fight, lest his adversary should fall back to 
the position which he dreaded; and although he knows full well 
that victory covers a multitude of errors in a general, he has per- 
severed in calling the resolution to fight on Mont St. John, "the 
great fault" of his adversary. Napoleon imagined on that day, 
that what had happened at Quartre Bras, would happen again at 
Waterloo — that the British would be unable to withstand the 
fiery impetuosity of his troops — and that in falling back through 
the forest, they would lose their artillery, and be entirely de- 
stroyed. He underrated the sturdy valour of the troops he had to 
deal with, and in his eagerness for victory, overlooked the disad- 
vantages of his own situation. 

He says, that the absence of Grouchy's detachment at Wavre, 
and of Girard's at Ligny, left him only 69,000 men for action, of 
which 10,000 were despatched under Lobau to check Bulow; and 
he estimates his enemies at 90,000. In addition to this imagined 
disproportion of numbers, he might have recollected, that his 
troops were excessively fatigued by incessant marching and fight- 
ing during four days in the heat of summer — that they had got no 
sleep on the night of the 17th, in consequence of the rain, and of 
the movements necessary to take up a position on the field of bat- 
tle, which was only accomplished, on the morning of the 18th, at 
the moment he announced his resolution to attack — that the allied 
army on the contrary had slept a little — was advantageously post- 
ed, and partially protected by Hougoumont and LaHaie Sainte — 
that it was determined to act on the defensive, and would be there- 
fore comparatively stationary during the battle; that its line was 
convex, and consequently more compact than his own; and that 
his own troops would be obliged to make every charge over 
ploughed fields, rendered deep and miry by the rain. Notwith- 
standing these obstacles to success, he resolved to give battle, 
and he ordered the charge, although he admits that all his officers 



^50 

-'tenaient pour impossible de donner bataille dans gc jourl" — I 
have not the presumption to censure any of the movements of so 
great a captain as Napoleon, even now that their consequences 
are known, and I am free to admit, that it he conceived Grouchy's 
corps too weak to hold the Prussians at bay, his situation was 
critical in the extreme. But since the entire separation of Wel- 
lington from Blucher was, next to victory, his great object, I 
have never been able to imagine why his first violent assaults were 
not made against the left wing of the English, instead of being 
wasted, (without the aid of artillery,) on the garden walls of Hou- 
goumont, which was on the British right, and which position must 
have been abandoned, if the French had driven the centre of the 
allied army from the height it occupied. "What great events 
from trivial causes spring" has been well said by a poet, and it is 
not impossible that it was a trifling oversight only, which con- 
verted the field of Waterloo, into ''the dust of an empire."'— As 
Napoleon knew the brave vivacity of the French in the onset of 
a battle, and their want of confidence and constancy, if staggered 
before the close of it; as he knew from the beginning (from a cap- 
tured hussar,) that the Prussians were marching on St. Lambert, 
which was close on his right — that Count Lobau was engaged 
with them at four or five o'clock since their bullets were then fal- 
ling around him in the centre of his army-— as he knew that Bu- 
low was repulsed before six o'clock, at which moment every 
thing promised victory, — ^is it not surprising that he delayed 
the grand attack until after sunset, near eight o'clock, at which 
time Blucher had reached La Haie, and was attacking him on 
the right? 

I have been told by one of the emperor's etat major who was 
near him on a little hillock, by the road side, close to the centre 
of the conflict, that when the Prussians burst like a cloud over the 
hills of La Haie, Napoleon with a look of collected awe, cast his 
eyes alternately on them and then on his own troops, which 
were advancing to the last charge. He seemed to be full of cou- 
rage and expectation, till he beheld the imperial guard recoiling 
down the hill of St. John m terrible disorder. His bridle then 
fell— -he grasped a handfuU of snuff" — applied it convulsively to 
his nose; fixed his eyes on the ground, and wore on his counte- 
nance an expression of horror that bordered on the apathy of 



251 

death. At this moment, when all his staff, and surrounding com* 
panions in arms, stood astonished and dared not speak to him, 
Labedojere rode up and exhorted him with the tury of madness, 
to rally his troops, that thej might all die or be victorious. Napo- 
leon raised his eyes and rolled them with stern composure over 
the scene of dismay and consternation which was before him — 
on the confusion of his right wing, already shattered by Blucher— 
on the dark battalions of Bulow which were encircling him in the 
rear, and replied — "it is impossible — it is done."— Immediately^ 
after this he took the reins of his bridle and galloped from the 
field. 

Whilst this dreadful scene was passing at Waterloo the news 
of the victories of Ligny and Quii/tre Bras reached Paris, and 
were circulated by telegraph over the empire. Enthusiasm was 
at its acme, and every heart seemed elated with joy, at the 
saving of the country. It was, however, as if fortune wished to 
make a sport of this nation, for in the midst of this ebullition of 
patriotism, and whilst expectation was on tip-toe for the capture 
of the allied army, and the conquest of Belgium, the news of 
defeat arrived. The imperialists were prostrated by it; the 
friends of rational liberty and national independence were over- 
whelmed with sorrow; the Jacobins were perplexed how to un- 
say what they had said on the news of victory; and a small 
party rejoiced at the calamity. The Emperor was aware that 
the Deputies were not attached to his person, but had only made 
use of him as an agent to save France, and would not therefore 
be disposed to sacrifice her to keep him on the throne. It was 
this conviction much more than the report, which the royalists 
circulated of a defeat in La Vendee, that caused his precipitate 
return to Paris. 

I have heard the French nation harshly condemned by 
many, and even by yourself, for abandoning Napoleon at this 
terrible crisis of his affairs. But what would you have had 
them do more? They had not invited him from Elba. He came 
among them in the hour of their discontent, and they received 
and made a great effort to support him. They put the lance and 
the shield of France in his hands, and he had now sliivered the 
one, and broken the other. Was it the duty of patriots to expose 
their country to entire devastation, and to ruin the prosperity of 



253 

thirty millions of people, in order to maintain an individual an 
the throne? Or was it their duty, whea they knew they must 
have a bad government at any rate, to succumb to circumstances, 
and to diminish as far as possible the hardships they were obliged 
to endure? One thing was then evident to every reflecting 
Frenchman, that it was impossible to rekindle the ardour and 
confidence of the nation; for the public mind of France was 
something like a tide that had spent itself with running — and 
was standing still, and ready to turn another way. 

The night after Napoleon's return to Paris he called a council 
of the ministers of state and of such distinguished members of 
the two chambers, as it was important to consult on ulteriour 
measures. He revealed to them the extent of the calamity which 
had befallen him, and demanded through his minister, Regnaud, 
succours for "the astonished Eagle." Lafayette stated, with 
the manliness which has always characterized him in the midst 
of personal or public affliction, that further resistance could only 
aggravate the misfortunes of France, — that the allies could not 
be expected after a victory to recede from the demand on which 
they had declared the war, and that therefore it was for the great 
and generous spirit of the Emperor to divine the sacrifice by 
Vi^hich only their vengeance might be averted from France. This 
was the first and last compliment of La Fayette to Bonaparte, 
and it was not made till the adulation of his courtiers was over. 
The suggestion was supported by Lanjuinais and Constant; but 
Bassano maintained the expedience of further resistance, and 
denounced the smiling treachery of Fouche. In this slippery 
posture of his affairs, the Emperor, gloomy and irresolute, dis- 
solved the council. 

A similar desire, however, that the Emperor should sacrifice 
his power for the good of France prevailed in the chamber of 
deputies. Lucien made an eloquent appeal to the generosity, 
love of glory, and fidelity of the nation to his brother; but La- 
fayette replied that the nation had been faithful and generous — 
that its fidelity stood attested by the bones of Frenchmen on the 
sands of Egypt, the snows of Russia, and the plains of Belgium — 
that it had made a great sacrifice for him, and had, therefore, a 
rio;ht to demand a great sacrifice in return. The emergencv it 
must be admitted was dreadful. France was on. the brink of 



255 

ruin. The allied army was marching rapidly on Paris, and in- 
surrection was organizing itself in various sec'^^ions of the coun- 
try, In such a state of things there would have been at least as 
much of insanity as of chivalry in the resolution to prolong the 
combat. The Chamber of Deputies, therefore, awaited with ex- 
cessive impatience on the 22n(l, for an act which might divorce 
the cause of the nation from that of the Emperor, and their un* 
shaken determination to have it, extorted from him his abdica- 
tion. If Napoleon's regret at parting from his authority arose 
from a conviction that the declarations of the allies against him 
we"e insincere, and that they were determined at all events to 
glut their vengeance on France, or if it arose from a belief that 
the loss of a rallying point at that critical moment would cause 
the nation to fall to pieces, and surrender, as it actually did, 
at discretion, he deserves as much oraise for clinging: to the 
wreck, as he does for his untyrannical conduct during the hun- 
dred days. Let us not then suspect him of a more selfish con- 
sideration, for, as Cicero said of C?esar, we have matter enough 
to admire in him, and would therefore willingly see something 
to praise. The deprecation which accompanied the declaration 
that his political life was finished, and that he offered himself as a 
sacrifice to the hatred of the enemies of France, evinces an ap- 
prehension of their bad faith; and the magnanimous allies took 
care to verify his suspicions. 

The despair that paralyzed the arm of Napoleon, unsinewed 
also the cause of the country. The dangerous influence of 
Fouche compelled the Chambers to make him a member of the 
provisional government. The soul of this man always gravitated 
to treachery. He was cunning by nature, and adroit by practice 
in the wiles of perfidy. During this brief reign of Napoleon he 
is said to have carried on a regular correspondence with Ghent 
and London. The man, who is false, says Lord Bolingbroke, to 
the cause of his country, will not be true to any other, and Fouche 
first betrayed the interest of France, and then, that of the persons 
who acted with him. lie saw that it would not be practicable 
to maintain young Napoleon on the throne, and therefore laid a 
scheme of surrendering the nation unconditionally into the 
hands of the king, in order to become the favorite of the royalists. 



254 

He was the bubble of his own cunning; but the pernicious con- 
sequences of his treachery can scarcely be measured. 

When national affairs are brought to a perilous crisis, a nu- 
merous executive is almost inevitably an inefficient body. The 
time, which it should employ in action, is lost m debate, and delay 
on many occasions is as fatal as defeat. The nomination of five 
governors was therefore an error on the part of the chambers; 
but it was probably inevitable, since it would have been impos- 
sible to unite their suffrages in favour of any one individual, and 
it was necessary to colleague the influence of several, in order to 
soothe the anger of the army, and to quiet the alarms of the 
people. As circumstances afterwards turned out, the abdication 
of Napoleon was perhaps unfortunate both for himself and for 
France; — for at the head of one or two hundred thousand men, 
who were still at his disposal, he might have made better 
terms than those afterwards dictated by tlie soi-disant gene- 
rous allies. 

During the sojourn of Napoleon at Malmaison, after his abdi- 
cation, he is said to have been frequently agonized by the dis- 
tractions which prevailed in the Provisional Council. At one 
time, when he clearly perceived that the national honour and 
independence would be inevitably sacrificed by their want of 
unanimity, he was on the point of yielding to the solicitations 
of the army, and assuming, in the name of- his son, the dicta- 
torship. But he was narrowly watched by those who had other 
schemes in view, and who dreaded the consequences of his embra- 
cing that audacious resolution. This apparent wavering, or irre- 
solution, has been much scoffed at by that race of shallow prat- 
tling politicians, who take peculiar delight in deriding the con- 
duct of Napoleon, when abandoned by fortune; and who fancy 
they are rendering homage at the shrine of legitimacy, by denying 
hiin even the possession of personal courage. They can see no 
difference between the duties of an Emperor, and of a mere 
general, after defeat; and, therefore, they adduce his quitting 
the army after its overthrow in Russia, as a proof that he, who 
had fought his way through ten thousand perils to the highest 
rank on earth, was destitute of bravery. There are persons, 
hov/ever, who have even snarled at Ihe tear whicii he shed on 
i\\^ grave of Josephine, m the village church of ni^tUkme^ when 



255 

he was on the point of leaving France for ever; and who have 
reviled, as ignominious, the mistaken confidence he placed in 
the British government. They once reproached him for not 
having died at Moscow, because, in the language of a poet, 

"II est beau de mourir maitre de I'univers;" 

and they condemned him,whilst in Elba, for not having committed 
suicide when his guard wept at his farcM^ell address at Fontaine- 
bleau. They did not remember, what he himself remembered, 
that if Marius had killed himself in the marshes of Minturnse, 
he would never have enjoyed the seventh consulship. But let 
us leave such politicians to the enjoyment of Iheir silly upbraid- 
ings. Their heroes of the Holy Alliance will live long enough, 
if I mistake not, to show the genuineness of their magnanimity, 
and the sincerity of their pretended respect for liberty. 
,-'^>As to Napoleon, whatever may have been the severity of his 
['•fifst reign, his conduct during the second was indicative of a 
J , high sense of patriotism, liberality, and justice. When he first 
ascended the throne, the French required, in his opinion, a 
strong government to brace up the bonds of society, which had 
been dissolved by the revolution. If, afterwards, great projects 
swayed him from a course of liberal policy, and induced him to 
rule the nation with rigour, it should be remembered that he 
was seated on a new throne which it might have been difficult 
to maintain without terror, as his enemies did not hesitate 
to adopt any measure to bring him to the ground. After his 
return from Elba, as it would have been no longer in his power to 
enchant the French by conquest, there is but little doubt he would 
have endeavoured to captivate their affections by liberality. 
Those who doubt the sincerity of his reform, may do M'ell to re- 
member, that even the cruel and tyrannical Octavius became the 
mild and beneficent Augustus; so that it was said of him, it 
would have been better for mankind, if he had never been born, 
Hor^if he never had died.* 

It is even yet the fashion in Europe to decry Napoleon, and 
to forget the great works which he executed. Among the 

* "Avec ordre et raison les honneurs il dispense 
Avec discernement punit et recompense, 
■f , ,• Et (Jispose de tout en juste possesseur 

Sans rien pi'ocipiter de pcur d'un successeur."^ — Cr>'XA. 



256 

nations, however, which he conquered, the advantajjes of his 
government over the old tyrannies are so distinctly felt, that no 
doubt exists among them, that if he had over run the whole con- 
tinent, it would have been a blessing to mankind. Knowled^ is 
now so generally diffused, that no scheme of universal monarchy 
can succeed; and the governments which would have been erec- 
ted, when the empire fell to pieces at the death of Napoleon, 
would have been more congenial with existing civilization. The 
present generation, perhaps, must pass away (even if Napoleon 
should die in confinement) before his conduct can be fairly 
judged. When the hatred which his late greatness inspired, 
and the sympathy which his present forlorn condition excites, 
have subsided, a correct opinion will be formed of his character. 
Mankind will then determine whether it might not hav^/;been 
more merciful to have shot him as soon as he surrendered, than 
to have torn him from his family and friends; to imprison him on 
the most wretched rock in the world, under the rays of a tro- 
pical sun, and exposed, as it is here believed he is, to the tormen- 
ting caprices of one of the most vexatious and tyrannical gaolers 
that could have been selected in all Europe. Those who love 
the honour and glory of England, have, perhaps, reason to ap- 
prehend, that posterity will regard the present treatment of Na- 
poleon, as we regard the treatment which Mary received at the 
hands of Elizabeth. The longer he lives the better it will be 
for England; for when he is no more, the Autocrat will drop the 
mask which covers his real character, and the inhuman ambi- 
tion of the Holy Alliance will appear in all its naked deformity. 



LETTER XV. 

Paris, April 1st, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

As the charge of political fickleness is thrown into the face 
of the French for every change of their government, it may be 
worth while to look a little into the situation of France during 
the invasion ot 1815, as well as at the librations of public ojjinion 
which grew out of it. By doing so, we may determine whether 
the change of government which followed, was the voluntary 
act of a versatile people, or whether it was a choice of evils ia 
an hour of retribution, when all the armies of Europe were pavi- 
lioned on the plains of this unfortunate country. 

Immediately after the battle of Waterloo, Wellington poured 
his victorious legions into France by the northern route of Cam- 
bray; and it ewes me pleasure to confirm, by the testimony of 
the French themselves, your impression of the honourable huma- 
nity of this general's conduct. The thirst for plunder, and the 
licentious propensities of the soldiery, were so effectually reined 
in by the stern hand of his authority, that the private property 
of the French suffered less from the passage of his army, than it 
had done from the movements of their own forces. The march 
of Blucher, on the contrary, who rushed into France by the route 
of Laon and Soissons, was contrasted in every particular with 
that of the English general. He moved like a blast of ven- 
geance over the land— horror preceded, and desolation followed 
him. The cries of the French were music to his ears; and 
wherever he halted, misery fixed herself, like the nightmare, on 
the breasts of the peaceful and unoffending peasantry. At the 
same time that these armies were hurrying on from the north to 
Paris to avail themselves of the trepidation which their victory 
had occasioned, the British fleets blockaded the western coasts 
fif France; the Spanish forces were breaking over the Pyrenees 



^58 

into the lukewarm provinces of the south; and the whole easteru 
frontier was covered by the German and Russian armies. 

A Bavarian and Austrian army under Wrede scattered the 
forces which opposed them, and overran the whole country from 
Nancy to the capital of Champagne. Another German army, 
after storming the position of Rapp at Vandenheim, invested him 
in Strasburg, An Austrian army, under Ferdinand, entered Al- 
sace from Basle, and after defeating Lecourbe, overran the whole 
of Franche Comte. Another under Frimont drove Suchet from 
Geneva, and then rushed on into Burgundy. The powerful army 
under Bubna, Avhich had defeated Murat, crossed the Alps, and 
after chasing the French out of Savoy, advanced through Dau- 
phiny on Lyons, where it halted to indulge a most vindictive 
spirit. The grand Russian army also, to make ''assurance dou- 
bly sure," crossed the Rhine at Spires, and marched on the capi- 
tal through Lorraine. 

Such was the tremendous military visitation of France in July 
1815, when a part of La Vendee, Languedoc, and Provence, were 
in arms for the Bourbons, and when the abdication of the Emperor 
had caused the army, the federates, and the national guard, to con- 
sider the cause of the country as abandoned. The French sol- 
diery had been animated by the best spirit, but^ a suspicion of 
treachery in some of their leaders pervaded the ranks before the 
opening of the campaign, and some of the wounded men, on the 
field of Waterloo, are said to have killed themselves, rather than 
survive the national disgrace. Their pride did not suffer them to 
think the battle lost by any thing but treason. Some gave up 
the public cause as ruined after this defeat, and returned to their 
homes; but the greater part of the survivors were embodied in 
Paris, when the combined army reached there, and among them 
despair had rather sharpened than blunted a disposition to fight. 
Several sharp rencontres took place in the neighbourhood, and 
a resolution to fight to the last against the Bourbons, whilst 
there remained a chance of success, seemingly prevailed in 
Paris. But the allies, by a dextrous movement, gained the left 
bank of the Seine, and approached the city on the southern side, 
where the enthusiasm of the garrison was its only fortification. 
Under these circumstances, it was the almost unanimous opinion 
of the officers of the army, that Paris was untenable. Two of 



259 

the members of the provisional government, Fouche and Cau- 
laincourt, were in favour of surrendering it to the Bourbons; 
but the majority, Carnot, Quinette and Grenier, thought it less 
dishonourable to capitulate to the allied generals.. The former 
was the expedient, the latter was the consistent course. It was 
this, too, which was least offensive, both to the populace and 
the chambers, among whom there prevailed at the time a vio- 
lent hostility to the Bourbons, and a faint hope that the allies 
might possibly be satisfied with the exclusion of Napoleon from 
the throne The soldiers marched out of the city with the 
sullen reluctance of indignant patriotism, but behaved with ad- 
mirable propriety,* considering the heavy pressure of despon- 
dency and discontent under which they laboured. But even 
after their departure, so vehement was the sense of public 
wrong among the populace, that the allies entered Paris with 
their arms loaded, and torches burning, in readiness for action. 
The executive, finding its deliberations embarrassed by the pre- 
sence of the enemy, and its measures frustrated by the ambi- 
tious schemes of Fouche, dissolved itself. The chambers, how- 
ever, struggled to the last for independence and liberty; but the 
enemy soon excluded them from their halls by the bayonet, and 
gave them to understand, that in the opinion of the Holy Allies, 
^'le pire des etats, c'est I'etat populaire." 

Louis XVIII. entered France after the allied army, and in a pro- 
clamation at Cambray, he announced that the p;ates of his kin*- 
dom were again open before him; that the principle of the leo-iti- 
macy of sovereigns was the fundamental basis of social order: that 
it had been consecrated by the charter, and was now the declared 
public law of Europe. But along with this ill-omened feudal 
folly, he intimated a rational consciousness of the errors of his 
past government; made a protest against the counter-revolu- 
tionary projects impute<l to him, and j>;ave a solemn assurance 
that the charter should be the law ot his future policy. Many 
of the French condemned him for entering France in the rear of 
foreign armies; but surely tliis step was the most rational one 
for the advancement of the public good, although it was calcu- 
lated to shock public opinion; for since '*on ne rcnonce pas aux 
grandeurs legitimes," an.' he was willing; to re establish his 
throne by the power of the allies, it would have been highly 



260 

ridiculous in him to have shown a punctilious squeamishness, 
as to the decorum of entering; in company with those who opened 
the way for him. He could not have adopted any course of con- 
duct free from objections; and as every sensibility of his nature 
must have been in agony, he was entitled to some indulqfence. 
A strong effort was made at St. Denis, to induce him to soothe 
the public feelings, by adopting the national cockade; and he 
might have yielded perhaps, but for the repugnance of his fa- 
mily, who unhesitatingly averred they would sooner see him go 
back to England. They considered the abandonment of the lily 
as a renunciation t)f their divine right to the crown; as an ac- 
knowledgement of the sovereignty of the. people, and even 
pushed their notions so far, as to imagine it would be a sanction 
of the crimes of the revolution. Before leaving Belgium, the 
king had made a sacrifice, which warranted the hope of his 
yielding this point. He had taken the resolution of removing 
from his government those obnoxious persons who had wrecked 
his fortunes, but a few months before. He wrote accordingly 
to Blacas, that he owed it to the repose of the few days he had 
to live, to the tranquillity of the world, and the counsel of his 
allies, to deprive him of the office he held. This conciliatory 
measure lulled, in France, the apprehensions of some, and neu- 
tralized the hostility of others; but the general exasperation was 
too great to be allayed by such gentle anodynes. The king 
therefore entered his capital under very different circumstances 
from those under which he entered it on the former occasion. 
Instead of sojigs of praise, and anthems of joy, silence and sad- 
ness prevailed every where; and a few white handkerchiefs 
alone greeted the mournful triumph. 

The king soon discovered that he was not come back to re- 
pose on a bed of roses — to enjoy a second honey moon of power; 
but to have his heart lacerated by the recrimination of wrang;ting 
factions, and the insulting arrogance of his hostile allies. They 
believe in England, that the army only rejoiced on the return of 
Bonaparte; but that the restoration of the Bourbons excited 
universal joy among all classes, except the soldiery and the 
Jacobins. Yet, although the French army was cut to pieces, 
and a million of bayonets opening the way to Paris, it took 
the latter as long to travel from Ghent to this city, as it 



261 

took the former, unaided and unassisted, to march from 
Cannes! The king felt that the circumstances under which he 
returned were inauspicious; and in order to appease the public 
wrath, or to quiet the apprehension of a counter-revolution, no- 
minated before he entered Paris, a revolutionary ministry, and 
gave a solemn assurance of governing after the principles of 
his charter. Talleyrand was placed at the head of the ministry, 
and although he was too unprincipled to possess the public con- 
fidence,, his opposition to a violent re-action tended to assuage 
the impettfous indignation of the public. The appointment of 
the regicide Fouche likewise produced a favourable impression; 
for, notwithstanding the general disgust at his treachery, he was 
possessed of immense influence, and his nomination proved that 
Louis was capable of sacrificing his private feelings to a sense 
of public good. Fouche did something too, in the short period 
he held the seals, to atone for the sins of his earlier life. He 
had sufficient dexterity to assume the character of a mediator 
between the nation and the Bourbons, and laid a subtile scheme 
to render himself a necessary clasp for uniting the links of the 
revolution to the chain of legitimacy. He advised the king to 
discard those who fled with him to Ghent; to put himself at the 
head of the nation, and not to ;;|:peAr as the leader of the emi- 
grant faction. As he was not able to prevail on Louis to grant 
an universal amnesty, he exerted himself to limit as much as 
possible, the proscription. But in spite of the conciliating po- 
licy of the new ministry, the king found himself in the most em- 
barrassing predicament; for the royalists w^ere clamorous for 
vengeance, and the nation for the retirement of the foreign ar- 
mies. France was treated in every particular as a conquered 
country, in spite of the declaration that the war was against 
Napoleon only; and the ministers were at last obliged to address an 
expostulation to the king, both against the pernicious zeal of the 
royalists, and the highly insulting pretensions of the allies. 
They warned the king that the ultra-royalists, encouraged by 
the princes of his family, were hurrying France to the brink of 
ruin by counteracting his benevolent intentions; whilst the al- 
lies were ravaging her provinces, seizing the funds of the trea- 
sury, plundering the royal mao;azine3 and fortresses, despoiling 
the public monuments, and removing the master-pieces of art. 

34 



263 

Their suggestions, however, that the nation might become despe- 
rate from the continuance of outrage were disregarded; and as 
it became evident that electoral colleges, (awed by foreign bayo- 
nets, and menaced by the emigrant cabal,) could not return men 
with French feelings to the new chamber, they resigned. 

The king deprecated the rage of his private friends, and there- 
fore selected his new ministers from among those moderate men 
who had acquired reputation under the imperial government, and 
who, if they did not feel much attachment for libertY,.were not 
likely to fall into an excess of tyranny. He placed atiNi^head the 
Due de Richelieu, a man of great probity and respectability, who 
was likely to be agreeable to the royalists from his genealogy, and 
to the emperor Alexander, from having long served him as governor 
of Odessa. In the negociations with the allied ministers which 
ensued, Richelieu distinguished himself by a manly zeal, in com- 
batino; their exorbitant and uno:enerous demands. But for fifteen 
months after the second restoration, France was compelled to 
suffer the bitterest affliction. The presence of a million of soldiers 
for some months was in itself a tremendous evil, on the score of 
humiliation, independent of the infamous depredations they com- 
mitted. I allude to domestic pillage and not to the robbery of the 
Louvre; which latter act was justifiable (except so far as it viola- 
ted the compact with Louis,) on various ground-s. The only ad- 
vantage of collecting the chefs (Pceuvres of art in one gallery, was 
the facility it gave artists of seeing them. But on the other hand 
where so many were huddled together, they were regarded with 
less interest; were subject to entire destruction from a single fire; 
and to be carried off to a bad climate by the first northern con- 
queror. Besides, 1 believe that no one who has seen the descent 
from the cross in the cathedral at Antwerp — or the V^enus de 
Medicis, looking all grace and loveliness in her little temple on 
the banks of the Arno; or gazed at the god of the unerring bow, 
<<^\vith his nostrils snorting beautiful disdain," on his pedestal in 
the matchless galleries of the Vatican, could ever wish to see such 
monuments of genius stuck up in the corners of the Louvre. 
There is no association of ideas in Pans to throw a halo over 
them. But in Italy there is something in^piriugin the very face of 
the country — something so ennobling in the recollections it awa- 



263 

kens, that I think every soul of feeling must rejoice, to see it 
still '•'the home of all art yields, or nature caa display." 

France had been lulled into tranquillity by the false promises 
of the Allies, and was in no condition to resist their demands in 
the autumn of 1815. The best terms she could procure, were the 
relinquishment of her monuments of art; the surrender of a part 
of her territory; the delivery of her frontier fortresses into the 
hands of her enemies; the payment of seven hundred millions of 
francs to defray the expences of the war; the military occupation 
of her territory by 150,000 men, and the support of them for five 
years. These were hard conditions, aivd taught the French an evi- 
dent fact, that the vices of legitimate sovereigns, as well as those 
of usurpers, do grow, like crocodiles, as long as they live—- 

"Erquand par le fer les choses sotit videes 

La justice et le di-oit sont de values idycs. "—^lior^ de PompSe.' 

It will no doubt be a matter of surprise to posterity, that En- 
gland after winning the late victory should have again failed, as 
after the first restoration, to obtain any reward for her services. 
It was said other, after the peace of Utrecht, that it was her cus- 
tom to lose in negociation all the advantage she had gained in the 
field. On the late occasions she displayed a signal improvidence. 
For more than twenty years she had been the lever of every con- 
federacy against France. She expended hundreds of millions of 
pounds, and hundreds of thousands of lives, and for what — to re- 
place the Bourbons on the thrones of France, Spain, and Naples, 
without the privilege of even selling their subjects her manufac- 
tures — to give Poland to Russia — Saxony to Prussia, arid Italy to 
Austria — to destroy her trade with Kolknd, by giving it to Bel- 
gium and a king — and to exclude her ships from the free cities of 
Genoa and Venice, by merging their independence in the pool of 
despotism. That her negociators should have made all those gene- 
rous blunders, whilst the fear of Bonaparte was yet fresh in their 
minds, is not so extraordinary, as the repetition of them after the 
second restoration. The battle of Waterloo carried the military 
reputation of England to the highest point of renown, yet when 
the future men of that country, ask ''of what use was it?" I am 
disposed to apprehend they can receive no other answet than that 
''it was a splendid victory." It enabled her, to be sure, to con- 
firm her magnificent donations to her nominal friends on the 



264 

continent; to have General Wellington placed at the head of the 
army of occupation; and to send General Bonaparte tofet. fielena. 
But, what territory did it acquire for her; what ports did it 
open to her manufactures; or what security has it given for the 
integrity ot her constitution? Perhaps she may even yet make use 
of her illustrious prisoner to retrieve some of her errors. If she 
should not, and South America should fail to acquire indepen- 
dence, she will find few of her allies, "so poor as to do her rever- 
ence." In England however, the embers of prejudice are not yet 
sufficiently covered by the ashes of time, to admit of her late po- 
licy being regarded in the light in which posterity will view it. 
The system of policy adopted by Louis, was not entirely con- 
formable to the hopes which his proclamations had awakened. 
The ample proscription of the 24th of July, whicliwas declared 
to embrace the names of all whom the king had resolved to 
punish, was soon discovered to be too limited for the vengeance 
of the triumphant faction. A more extensive plan of persecu- 
tion spread dismay over the kingdom, and the period which 
elapsed between the second invasion of the allies, and the 5th of 
September, 1816, has obtained the appellation of the second 
reign of terror in France. It is somewhat remarkable, that the 
prejudices of foreigners were so violent during this season of 
persecution, that the sufferings of the French were forgotten, 
and the ministerial prints in England, in particular, were filled 
with extravagant encomiums on the clemency and beneficence of 
the new government. All those who were in office at the return 
of Napoleon were discharged, and the places filled by men dis- 
tinguished for their violent hostility to freedom. Those mem- 
feers of the Chamber of Peers, who had continued in office un- 
der the Emperor, were declared to have abdicated their rights; 
those who had not been nominated by him were made heredita- 
ry; and new ones were appointed, to secure a majority ol infu- 
riated royalists. A new Chamber of Deputies was convened; 
and by a crafty stratagem, a similar majority secured in it. 
The members of the electoral colleges, who chose the deputies, 
were, by the constitutions of France, appointed by primary as- 
semblies of the people; but as Bonaparte did not like the inter- 
ference of the multitude in his government, especially after his 
assumption of the imperial dignity, he had ordained that the 



265 

electors should hold their places for life; and in order to secure 
their vores more easily, had never filled up the vacancies which 
occurred from death. The colleges therefore did not consist of 
much more than half their original numbers, and the resolution 
was now taken of filling up the vacancies, (not by the people) 
but by the selection of the new prefects, who were all ultra- 
royalists. By the aid of this stratagem, and the presence of fo- 
reign troops, together with the terror inspired by the banrls of 
Chouans and Vendeans, and Royalists in the south, who march- 
ed about ravao;in(i!: and murdering from an excess of royal and 
anti-protestant zeal, a chamber of deputies was created, the 
majoritj' of which was far more royal than the king himself. 
From this circumstance the government of France presented an 
anomaly in the history of nations — tiiat of a king and his minis- 
ters inclining to liberality, and a popular assembly instigating 
them to the adoption of sanguinary and ty»annical measures. 
The king was so well pleased in the beginning with this odious 
assembly, that he called it '-la chambre introuvable," an appel- 
lation which was deemed a compli^nent at the time, but which 
will be its opprobrium as long as the spirit of liberty exists in 
this country. The voice of that chamber is no more to be con- 
sidered as the voice of France, than that of the parliament of 
Richard II. (who sent down orders to the siieriffs to return the 
members he nominated) is to be considered the voice of Eng- 
land. Charles II. after his restoration, attempted to establish a 
standing parliament; and when that failed, heidetermined to se- 
duce the members by bribery and corruption. But notwith- 
standing the peculiar advantages of his situation, at a time 
when the tide of public opinion, after having run itself out in 
pursuit of popular rights, was setting back again into the gulph 
of passive obedience, he found it impracticable to keep the cur- 
rent always tainted, whilst the ocean from which it flowed was 
unpolluted. Now Louis XVIII. is a man of much more practi- 
cal sense and benevolence than Charles IL was, and there is 
every reason to believe, that he would never have suHered that 
scandalous interference in the elections, but from his critical 
situation, and the harassing importunities of his family. 

W':en the ^'Ch'tmbre introuvable^^ assembled, it first swore to 
maintain the charter j next spoke with contemptuous scorn of it. 



266 

and then violated it, by sanguinary laws. The liberty of the 
press was destroyed, and the privilege of arbitrary imprison- 
ment accorded to the government. Eighty-five cours prevotales 
were created, to despatch criminal business with expedition; 
to exercise authority at pleasure; and elude the unaccommoda- 
ting conscience of a jury. It was previously imagined, that the 
revolutionary committees and imperial police had discovered 
every means of assailing the suspected; but this assembly, by 
an unprecedented subtlety of research, invented a law against 
seditious cries and writings, which punished interpretative and 
imaginary crimes, under the appellation of '^indirect provoca- 
tion." Although France groaned under the presence of 150,000 
gaolers, they authorized the raising of 10,000 Swiss with ex- 
travagant pay; gave permission to ecclesiastical bodies to hold 
property, and but for the refusal of the royal assent, would have 
deprived clergymen, who had once been married, of their annui- 
ties. Notwithstanding the solemn amnesty granted by the king, 
and the prohibition in the charter of all inquiry into past opi- 
nions, the regicides were proscribed and exiled, and the power 
of taking a part of their property vested in the king. A large 
proportion of the Chamber were even in favour of their imme- 
diate execution, and of the exile of every man who had been in 
office during what they called the twenty-five years of brigand- 
age and rebellion. Some went so far as to solicit of Louis the 
abolition of the charter, and the re -establishment of pure des- 
potism. Spies an#informers were scattered over France — offi- 
cers were dismissed en masse, to make room for those who ca- 
lumniated them; there was no legal mode of defence, and so- 
ciety was harrowed up and disorganized to its centre. Thou- 
sands were thus deprived of the means of subsistence, and 
many committed suicide to escape from misery. 

In addition to these distressing circumstances, a general scar- 
city of provisions existed in France. Large portions of the soil 
had gone untilled in 1815, or had their fruits destroyed by the 
allies; and a general failure of the crop took place in 1816. 
The sun (as is reported to have happened, in Rome after the 
death of Ceesar,) was obscured by spots on his surface, and suf- 
fered such a diminution of light and heat during the summer of 
1816, as destroyed the crops in both hemispheres. Yet under 



267 

all these calamities, this much calumniated nation submitted 
with sublime patience to its new government. 

The feelings of the French are yet tremblingly alive on the 
particular punishments inflicted after the second restoration. 
It is contended that blood enough had been spilt on the field of 
Waterloo, and in the hunt of the French which followed that 
overthrow, to wash out the stain and offence of rebellion; and 
surely if the object of punishment be to prevent the repetition 
of a crime, and not to gratify the spirit of vengeance, we mio-ht 
conclude that the slaughter of 50,000 men,«— the desolation of 
heart it carried home into the bosom of every family, — the devas- 
tation of France by foreign troops and domestic brigands,' — the 
enormous contribution levied by the allies, and the temporary loss 
of independence, might have created sufficient terror to re- 
strain aH whom fear could hinder from rebellion. No proof 
whatever of a conspiracy to restore Napoleon, has ever been 
discovered; and the rebellion of the entire French nation 
against the Bourbons, after the violation of the charter, can 
scarcely be considered as very different from that abandonment 
of the Stuarts, wiiich has rendered the names of Somers, and 
Sunderland, and Godolphin, and Churchill, illustrious. Unhap- 
pily perhaps for justice, maiikind usually judge the rectitude or 
criminality of statesmen from the success or failure of their en- 
teiprizes; and therefore it is probable, that if Tallard had en- 
camped the men, who now sleep on the field of Blenheim, in 
Hyde Park, and had there dictated terms to England, those 
heroes ot the British constitution, those regenerators of the 
world, might have suffered death for their treason. When at a 
later period, Washington and his little band of patriots, were 
scoti'ed at as rebels by ministerialists in the English parliament, 
it was justly exclaimed by some orator in reply, '^'Rebellion is 
written on the backs ot the living foe; but revolution blazes on 
the breastplates of the conqueror." 

It must be admitted, I think, that there were many conside- 
rations which might have inclin< d the Bourbons to clemency* 
They hau their peace to make with the nation. They might 
have recuiiected also, that executions had never given stability 
to any government (iurinj;, the whole French revolution,-— that 
Bonaparte had been very merciful and forgiving on his return, 



S68 

and that there was much danger of inspiring by severity, the 
idea "que la perfidie est noble envers la tyrannic." As the 
whole nation had oflfeuded, the selecting of individuals for exe- 
cution, had something odious in it, and seemed to convert cri- 
minals into martyrs. The fate of Labedojere in particular, ex- 
cited the deepest sympathy. His wild enthusiasm and romantic 
valour had delighted his countrymen; and as he died to expiate 
their influence over him, his offence was ascribed to youth, gra- 
titude, and the illusions of an ardent mind. For the conduct of 
Ney there was no such apology as youth. His treason was fla- 
grant, but not premeditated; for he had been trained in the 
school of the Revolution, to consider allegiance due to France, 
and not to a monarch. The public did not approve his conduct; 
but he had obtained the appellation of the ''bravest of the 
brave," by his indefatigable gallantry, and had saved thousands 
of Frenchmen in the dreadful flight from Moscow. It could 
scarcely have been thought necessary to prove that the govern- 
ment had nerve enough to shoot such men, when a niillion of fo- 
reio^n bayonets were stacked in France; but if it was, a sham 
execution would have answered that end; and if the individuals 
had been concealed in prison for some time, and then brought 
out, it would have electrified the people with pleasure, by show- 
ing them that the government had dared to pu dsh, but had in- 
dulged in clemency. The extraordinary escape of Lavalette 
delighted the JFrench nation, and his late pardon and permission 
to return to France, show that his death would have been of no 
service to the state. The other victims of this brilliant but un- 
lucky rebellion were executed in the provinces; and did not 
therefore, with the exception perhaps of Csesar and Constantine 
Fouchers, attract such universal sympathy and regret. These 
two young oflicers of Bourdeaux were twin -brothers, and were not 
at first proscribed, but were tried and condemned. They heard 
their sentence with firmness; walked to the place of execution 
with their arms locked in each other; refused the bandage for 
their eyes; gave the signal, and fell dead together. Their he- 
roism, fraternal love, and fate, touched more hearts with com- 
passion than with fear. The many executions too, which took 
place at Grenoble and Lyons, only angered the public mind, 
and have caused a more implacable spirit of discontent to pre- 



269 

vail in those parts than elsewhere. Louis is said to have been 
disinclined to this severe policy, and to have yielded in some 
instances with extreme reluctance to the importunities of his 
friends. In the case of Nej in particular, he is said to have 
been deeply touched by a report of his repentance, and to have 
shown by his hesitation in si«;ning; the death-warrant, ''qu'une 
ame genereuse a de peine a faillir."* 

The country arou. id Toulouse, Nismes,and Marseilles, is the 
least civilized part of Fra ice. Thirty years of confusion have 
not destroyed the religious and political feuds that disgraced 
Languedoc, in particular, before the revolution. Gangs of high 
church men and ultra-royalists, animated by the spirit of per- 
secution and revenge, collected about Nisuies, to assassinate all 
whom their malignity or caprice pleased to consider protestants 
or Bonapartists. The rage which murdered Marshal Brune, at 
Avignon, and which spread death and despair in Marseilles, 
was more transieiit than that at Nismes, where even the king's 
officer, General Lagarde, was assassinated in attempting to 
preserve the peace. D'Argenson, the wealthiest proprietor in 
France, denounced these crimes in the Chamber of Deputies, 
but the ultra-royalists stifled his voice by a general clamour. 

When more than a year had elapsed after the second restora- 
tion; when the foreign troops, with the exception of the army of 
occupation, were gone, — the ring leaders of the late disaster 
either dead or banished, and all the posts of government filled 
by ultra-royalists, the king discovered that the French, instead of 
being appeased, were more violently hostile than ever against 
his government; and that a spirit of insurrection pervaded all 
France. The rash and furious conduct of the emigres and their 
friends, was evidently hurrying on the nation to a dreadful ex- 
plosion, which must have occurred in the autumn of 1816, but 
for the good sense of the ministry. The royal ordinance of the 
5th of September, which dissolved the Chamber of Deputies — 
laid the foundation of public credit — recommenced the reign of 
the law — and saved the monarchy — was the result of the influ- 
ence of Mr. Decazes the minister of Police. From that day a 
gradual improvement has been going on in France, although it 
has been much retarded by excessive caution. The king was 

* Corncille. 

35 



270 

aware of the general displeasure with his government, and in 
making that sacrifice to public opinion, reminded the nation that 
the advantages of amelioration were closely connected with the 
dano^ers of innovation. For this reason, he determined to retain 
the old electoral colleges, but suffered his ministers to exert all 
the influence of government, both against the ultra-royalists and 
the violent constitutionalists. The chamber was again reduced 
to two hundred and fifty -eight members, which is certainly too 
small a number for a great kingdom, in which a numerous house 
of commons is indispensably requisite to counterbalance the 
weight of the crown. To the largeness of her representation, 
En- land owes the independence and wisdom of her parliament, 
as well as what is not, at first sight, so evident, the dispatch of 
business. In an assembly of one or two hundred, there is a dis- 
position to indulge every garrulous blockhead, who chooses to 
haran me himself out of breath and his auditors out of patience. 
But in a body of five or six hundred, this indulgence becomes 
impossible; and, therefore, none are suffered to worry the house, 
by beating about after nothing Those who cannot condense 
their observations, and speak to the point, soon cease to take 
part in the debate. 

The return ot the French government into the track of the 
charter, diffiised a pacifying gladness over all parties except that 
of the infuriated royalists. Their antipathy to liberty is so 
strong, that whenever she sheds a beam upon them, it causes 
them to give out, as the rays of the rising sun are fabled to have 
caused the statue of Memnon, a sound of lamentation and rejg;ret. 



LETTER XVL 



Paris, April Sd, 1820. 
The new Chamber of Deputies could not, my dear sir, 
from the mode and circumstances of its election be a fair and 
candid representation of the nation. But as the ultra royalists 
lost the majority in it, France began to breathe, and the people, 
in the language of the king, 'Ho bear their hardships with touch- 
ing resignation." The overthrow of the faction which was then 
panting to restore royalty to its ancient plenitude of prerogative 
and pageantry, caused such an immediate restoration of tran- 
quillity that the government deemed it safe to invite the allies to 
diminish the army of occupation; and thirty thousand troops 
■were accordingly withdrawn. Vaublanc, the minister of the In- 
teriour, who was odious to the nation, was dismissed, and M. 
Laine, an ardent, but not furious friend of the king, appointed 
to fill his place. Dubouchage and Clarke, however, still con- 
tinued to interrupt the harmony of the ministerial deliberations, 
by their despotical habits until the summer of 1817, when they 
M'ere discharged. After this change, slight differences of opi«iiou 
only existed in the cabinet 

The Electoral Colleges were so notoriously corrupt, that a ma- 
jority of the members elected by them heartily concurred v/ith 
the liberal part of the ministry in the necessity of abolishing 
them. Hence originated the law of elections, which annihilated 
those colleges, and extended the elective franchise to every in- 
dividual of thirty years of age, who paid to the state a direct con- 
tribution of SOO francs, (or S6''.) This law, although it only gave 
the rio-ht of voting: to a hundred thousand men in a nation of 
thirty millions, or to one person in three hundred, was veheme:itly 
opposed, of course, by the violent monarchists, who stigmatized 
it as democratic, and subversive of the principles of legitimate 
government! These new electors were to assemble in the chief 



272 

town of the department when summoned by the king; their pre- 
sidents were appointed by him, in order to enable him to pre- 
sent a royal candidate for their favour; and the electors were 
required to deliver their votes to the president and four scruta- 
tors without public deliberation. Half the members to be elect- 
ed were obliged to be residents of the electing department — all 
were required to be forty years of age, and to pay a direct tax 
of 1000 francs, (or !S200;) and agreeably to the charter, one 
fifth of the chamber was to be renewed annually. Now, this latr 
was a great blessing to France, although it excluded from the 
privilege of voting all small proprietors of land, and limited the 
right to a body which must diminish in number, whilst the pre- 
sent testamentary laws remain in force. It also discarded a 
principle, that of the double election, which will, if 1 mistake 
not, be found of vital importance to the respectability of public 
assemblies in those nations of Europe in which an extensive 
sufifrage is to be enjoyed. The double election prevents the ne- 
cessity of canvassing with the canaille, which is often disagree- 
able and irksome to men of rank, and takes away any undue ad- 
vantage from those cajoling and hypocritical demagogues ''who 
seem the innocent flower, but are the serpent under it." Un- 
happily, all sovereigns are liable to be deluded by flattery, and 
the people as much as any other. The French have an idea, 
that by two degrees of election, the affectation of vulgar manners, 
and the licentious habit c f drinking with the canaille for popu- 
larity, may be prevented; inasmuch as the candidates M'ould only 
have to make interest with those numerous electors, who, in all 
probability, would be men of some education, talent, or property. 
In Europe, for a long time to come, popular elections v\'ill 
probably be attended with some tumult and danger, because 
they occur so rarely. In America we have disarmed them 
of their terrors, by the frequency of their recurrence; and we 
therefore smile at the fine rhapsodies of Mr. Burke, on the 
evils he imagined inseparable from even triennial elections; on 
the J 'drunkenness, idleness, law suits, litigations, pro- ecutions, 
triennial frenzy, dissolution of society, interruption and ruin of 
industry; the rendering immortal the personal hatreds, feuds 
and animosities, until public morals should be vitiated, and gan- 
grened to the vitais." Besides this gang of terrors, that great 



273 

statesman fancied that the independence of elections would be 
destroyed by repetition, because the exhausting sluices of en- 
tertainments and feasts, and bribery, would wash away and ruin 
private fortunes. He never seems to have reflected, that the 
pricf* of all articles is diminished by their multiplication; and he 
therefore concluded, that because septeimial elections (forty 
years ao:o,) cost on an average 3000 pounds a member, that tri- 
ennial ones would be more expensive. Now, is it not astonish- 
ing that so great a genius should not have perceived, that the 
evils he deprecates, are actually augmented in even a geometri- 
cal proportion by the increased duration of parliaments? His 
excv'ption of Ireland does not prevent the experience of ages 
from corroborating this fact; for, when were elections made for 
life without bloodshed or corruption? I do not know on what 
ground be fancied that the Romans elected away their liberty; for 
surely there was some contrast between ihe sober appointment 
of their consuls, and the sanguinary elevation of their emperors; 
and I mio;ht ask, what resemblance does the almost unimairina- 
ble tranquillity with which we put up and take down Presidents, 
in the United States, bear to tlie former factious and furious 
elections of the kings of Poland. Because septennial elections 
were disorderly and corrupt, x\ir. Burke averred, tliat the consti- 
tution would be ruined by five triennial ones. "We all know," 
said he, ''that the candidate, instead of trusting at his election 
to the testimony of his behaviour in parliament, must bring the 
testimony of a large sum of money, the capacity of liberal ex- 
pense in entertainments, the power of serving and obliging the 
rulers of corporations, or winning over the popular leaders of 
political clubs and neighbourhoods. It is ten thousand times 
more necessary to show himself a man of power than a man of 
integrity." Now it appears to me self-evident, that a man will 
make a much more violent eftbrt to obtain that which he will 
have but two or three chances of contending for in the course of 
his life, than for that which he has frequent opportunities of ac- 
quiring. He forgets economy on such an occasion, and plays 
deep from desperation; but when he is aware that if he lose to- 
dav he may succeed to-morrow, his apprehension and anxiety 
are alleviated by hope. Besides, when a political right is exer- 
cised so seldom by the people, it comes to be regarded as a 



274 

sort of inherited property, in the sale of which every one should 
profit to the best of his ability. Many too, who would accept 
of large bribes, would spurn at small ones. 

It was not my object in this digression to combat principles 
of government which prevail in Great Britain, but to show the 
inexpediency of their adoption in France. The constitution of 
England is not so much a constitution of choice, as of prescrip- 
tion. It has had an infinite number of wise and good principles 
incorporated into it by accident; it suits very well the temper 
and social habitudes of the nation, and has enabled it to attain 
an unparalleled pitch of prosperity; for which reason alone none 
of its principles should be hastily condemned. Perhaps, how- 
ever, its age makes it reluctant to keep pace with the march of 
civilization; and hence, notwithstanding, its long, happy, and 
harmonious operation, some of its parts may be out of repair, 
or become too clumsy for the simplicity of modern improvement; 
so that unless those rotten wheels be removed in time, they may 
bring down the whole machine with a terrible crash. 

In addition to this law of elections, which was a rough key 
to the Temple of Liberty, the ministry succeeded in substituting 
a law of recruitment for the Conscription. They used, with 
great moderation also, the arbitrary powers which were entrust- 
ed to them; and therefore, unless what lord Bolingbroke says be 
true, that slavery and tyranny do not so much consist in the 
stripes that are given and received, as in the power of giving 
them at pleasure, and the necessity of receiving them whenever 
and for whatever they are inflicted, the French were almost 
exempt from tyranny during 1817 and '18. They would have 
been quite so, if the men of reaction, the political recusants to 
the constitutional regime, had not filled all the minor offices, 
and thus had it in their power to counteract the benevolence of 
the king, by representing transactions of the most harmless na^ 
ture as combinations and conspiracies against the public weal. 
The searching vigilance, however, of the minister of police, 
M. Decazes, at last discovered these frauds, and put a stop 
to them. The district around Lyons was that which suffered 
most from these iniquitous misrepresentations. The magistrates 
were pleased to assert that there existed a vast plot for the over- 
throw of legitimacy, and the delivery of France to massacre 



375 

and plunder. Persecutions first inflamed the passions of the 
disaifected, and want, insult and injustice, finally provoked the 
peasants of some villages into acts of folly. These served, in 
turn, as pretexts for fresh severity. 

The prisons were filled with suspected persons; the prevotal 
courts were kept in constant employment; arraij^nments and 
condemnations followed without number, and orders for execu- 
tions were even sent by telegraph. Troops of spies were organ- 
ized by the magistrates, and authorized to circulate in every 
drinking house; to abuse the government, to threaten its over- 
throw, to invite to rebellion, to announce a general conspiracy, 
headed by the first men in the country, and if they succeeded 
in inveigling any poor wretch into a syllable of applause, to 
point him out to the arresting officers, who lodged him in a dun- 
geon. These agents were so numerous that they did not know one 
another, and consequently shared sometimes, for a day or two, the 
misery they designed for their victims. The vilest soldiers were 
let loose on the communes to plunder and insult particular per- 
sons; to prefer accusations against them, or to insult women 
and children, even whilst their husbands and parents were lead- 
ing to execution. Nothing of a like nature had occurred under 
the much vilified reign of Napoleon, although he had been ex- 
posed to domestic insurrection, and to foreign war. 

The magistrates at last worked themselves up to a pitch 
of madness, and represented to the government that the 
Eastern departments were preparing for a dreadful revolt. 
The alarm and anxiety which their execrable bulletins excited, 
induced the King to send iVJarechal Marmont to ascertain the 
truth; and the report of his Aid -de-camp makes the heart shud- 
der with horror. "La ville de Lyons et les communes qui I'en- 
tourent avaient vu renaitre pour el les le regime de 1793," &c. 
W hen Marmont reached Lyons, he found the magistrates 
well prepared with a thousand proofs of conspiracy, well dis- 
tilled in iheir passage through the alembick of espionage. It 
was almost impossible for him to refuse his conviction of the 
truth of their statements, until he had extended his inquiries 
among respectable citizens, and the bloody records of the pre- 
votal courts. In a moment afterwards, his doubts were re- 
moved, and he returned a report to the ministry of a scene of 



^76 

suilt which made the kino; shudder. The work of death and 
persecution was instantly suspended by the Marechal. liouis 
dispatched his mercy to all the unfortunate beings yet alive — and 
peace and tranquillity immediately followed Huch is the nature 
of arbitrary government — it strikes in the dark, and its victims 
are called traitors. 

The mayor of Lyons at that time was, I believe, the Comte 
de Fargues, one of those humble servants of events, as Cardi- 
nal de Retz calls them, who are willing to serve any government 
provided it be despotic. A few of his actions show how little 
reliance is to be placed on the professions of violent demagogues. 
When Napoleon landed from Elba, he issued a proclamation de- 
nouncing the usurper who was come "in violation of his oaths, 
with a lew deserters, the dregs of nations,'''^ to interrupt the de- 
licious happiness the French were enjoying under the holy shield 
of legitimacy. The next week this furious royalist awoke, and 
behold, he was an imperialist! Then came a proclamation, an- 
nouncing with transports of joy, the arrival of the Emperor at 
Lyons — the city, whose ruins he had removed; whose edifices he 
had rebuilt; whose arts and commerce he had protected, and in 
which it was impossible to step without discovering a monument 
of his munificence. ''It is he," continues the proclamation, "'who 
rescued us from anarchy, and carried the French name to the 
acme of renown; who is as great in legislation, as he is sublime 
in war, and who watches with the same parental solicitude over 
our interests in the field of battle, as in the closets of his pa- 
lace." He remained in office under Napoleon, and was exert- 
ing himself with activity in his service, when lo! the news of 
the battle of Waterloo came, and then ''consideration, like an 
angel 3 whipt the offending Adam out of him." His subsequent 
zeal for the Bourbons, and his secret manceuvring, whilst the 
scales of fortune were suspended, entitled him to be continued 
in office, and to be chosen a member of the Chambre introuvable, 
where he voted with the Ultras till they carried France to the brink 
of ruin. After the dissolution ot that body, he took a lead in the 
horrid persecutions of 1817, and enjoyed the dignity of mayor 
of Lyons till his deatli! Crime and punishment, under regal 
governments, are not always consecutive. For issuing a procla- 
mation in favor of the Emperor, by Ney's orders, four days after 



277 

Monsieur Fargues, General La Grujere, who fought at Water- 
loo, was condemned to death, but had his sentence commuted^ 
by the royal mercy, into twenty years imprisonment! 

The discoveries of Marmont proved to the king the danger of 
listening to the vindictive resentments of the ultra royalist 
party, who were very naturally the haters of innovation and li- 
berty. They had inherited the right of oppressing the people 
from their ancestors, and were therefore blind to its injustice; 
and the abolition of their privileges had not only ruined them, 
but had covered their country, for a time, wit', confusion and 
blood. "L'oppression est toiijours la vengearxe qui attend I'op- 
pression," and it is not surprising, that they who had been 
dreadfully punished by revolt, should be dreadfully afraid of it, 
atnd disposed to punish it, as it had punished them. 

The superior advantages of justice and clemency above rigour 
and persecution, in preserving internal tranquillity, manifested 
themselves very clearly in France after the discomfiture of those 
who had predicted that the state would be ruined by lenity. 
The appointment of Gouvion St. Cyr, as minister of war, ia 
1817, pleased the military; and in the first fair election, (Sep- 
temper 1817,) the nation testified its gratitude for the king's 
change of policy. The new members were, for the most part, 
men satisfied with the ministry, and disposed to await with pa- 
tience the repeal of the laws infringing the charter, and the pas- 
sage of such acts as would place the institutions of the kingdom 
in harmony with it. Under the auspices of this lenient policy, 
the government began to settle down more firmly, and public 
credit to improve, whilst agriculture, commerce and manufac- 
tures, began to extend themselves and to flourish. Indeed, the 
aspect ot France became so cheering and complacent under 
these circumstances, that a general impression began to pre- 
vail, that the allied army would be removed at the end of the 
third year of occupation, 1818. Some dissatisfaction', however, 
with the ministry, for postponing the abolition of the arbitrary 
laws, was then beginning to be felt in France, and to disturb 
the public serenity. It had some influence on the election of 
the 2d fifth of the Chamber of Deputies, which took place 
just before the meeting of the Congress of Aix la Chapelle, 
and which raised into that body several individuals distin- 

S6 



^78 

guished for a warmer zeal for rational liberty, than the min- 
istry were disposed to approve. One of the causes of this, 
was the precarious state of the king's health, the despotical dis- 
positions of his brother, and a silly and ridiculous conspiracy 
hatched by a handful of crazy monarchists, for the seizure and 
deposition of Louis, in a hunt at Rambouillet, and the substitu- 
tion of the Comte D'Artois in his place, in order to re-establish 
the old regime. 

The resolution of the Congress of Aix la Ghapelle, to remove 
the foreign troops from France in the autumn of i8l8, diffused a 
transport of joy through the nation> The conduct of the Duke of 
Welling-ton at that Cono-ress, as well as in the settlement of the 
claims of the allies against France, was entitled to the highest 
praise; for he did not hesitate to advise the removal of the army, 
although it deprived him of the proudest military command on 
earth, and checked his love of pleasure by removing him from this 
metropolis of enchantment. I shall never forget the feeling with 
which his noble disinterestedness caused me to look at him at 
the magniUcent sham-battle which he gave for the entertainment 
of the sovereigns on that occasion^ It was on one of the most 
beautiful days that ever shone on those plains of Flanders, which 
seem to have been created almost for the display of armies, and 
it was the last time that the troops of confederated Europe and 
Russian Asia, were destined to meet on the same field in amity 
together. 

Prior to the Congress of Aix la Chapelle, an impression had 
prevailed that the conquest of France, and the treaties of Vienna 
and Paris, had arranged a permanent system for Europe, and 
consolidated all the old despotisms. The legitimates had been 
called on, it is true, to fulfil their promises to give liberal con- 
stitutions to their subjects for expelling the French, but those 
engagements had been easily evaded. The spirit of liberty and 
independence, however, was now becoming a little refractory 
under the postponement, and reciprocal communications at the 
Congress excited an alarm among the sovereigns. The advan- 
tages which France in particular, had derived from the revolu- 
tion, and the impulse which the abolition of each arbitrary pri- 
vilege had given to her civilization, excited their surprise; and 
it became a question how far it was prudent tor them to allow 



279 

France to receive the ameliorations in her social and political 
condition, which institutions in harmony with the charter. mi«^ht 
produce. They were not pleased to perceive a growing dispo- 
sition in the conterminous nations to regard the consequences 
in preference to the calamities of the French revolution, and 
began to apprehend the impossibility of keeping the large ad- 
vantages of the former out of view. Even the Due de Richelieu 
himself, who exerted a noble activity in recovering the indepen- 
dence of his country, felt alarmed at the failure of his efforts to 
control the late elections. Nature had designed him for a libe- 
ral politician, but he had never resided in any country which 
presented a fair spectacle of the ennobling results of freedom, 
and the atrocious scenes of the revolution made him dread ex- 
travagantly all encroachments on the royal prerogative He did 
not wish the restoration of the old regime, but as near an ap- 
proximation to it as the improved state of France admitted. For 
this reason, he rather strengthened the apprehensions of the al- 
lies, by admitting that the existing law of elections in France 
might bring into power men more liberal than it suited the views 
of the sovereigns to encourage. A scheme was consequently 
concerted to prevail on Louis to consent to change that law, and 
with a view of reconciling him to it, the Grand Despot of the 
North and the King of Prussia made a short visit to Paris. Yet 
the project created a violent division in the ministry, which all 
the efforts of the king could never heal, and which has led to 
the most important consequences. 

The political parties in this country are frequently designa- 
ted by the seats thej occupy in the Cliambers of the Deputies; 
which is a semi-circular hall, with benches rising one above 
another, like the seats of an amphitheatre The President's 
chair is nearly in the centre of the diameter which cuts the cir- 
cle, and immediately before it, fronted by a sort of parapet, is 
the elevated platform, called the Tribune, so that the orator, in 
speaking, (contrary to our practice,) turns his back on the pre- 
sident. The benches at the extremity of the semi-circle, oii 
the president's right hand, are occupied by those strenuous sup- 
porters of absolute monarchy, who consider every privilege 
gained by the nation as an usurpation on the royal prer -ative,. 
and who are therefore indiscriminately called the ultra-royalist 



£80 

party, or the Cote droit. The benches opposite to these, on tlic 
left of the throne, are occupied by those ardent adniiiers of 
liberty, who remember with indignation the numberless evil^ 
which arbitrary power has inflicted on France; who look with a 
jealous eye on the immense prerogatives of the crown, and who are 
therefore called the liberal party, oy Cote Gauche, Ihe interve- 
ning benches, in front of the President's seat, are filled by the 
moderate men of each party; by the tools and officers of go- 
rernment; and by those whiffling weathercock politicians, who 
always march under the flag of the powers that be; and which 
body has therefore obtained the name of the ministerial party, 
or Le Centre,* 

Now the liberal party had been very considerably reinforced 
by the elections of 1818; and a doubt arose, before the meet- 
©f the Chambers, whether the government could safely calculate 
on finding a majority to sanction any retrograde movement from 
the liberal position it had occupied since the preceding year. 
Doubts of the expediency of this policy, as well as of the possi- 
bility of pursuing it, had created the division, to which I have 
already alluded, in the Cabinet. This diversity of opinion had 
prevented the ministry from fixing on any scheme of measures, 
90 that when the Chambers assembled, and their mutual congra- 
tulations on the recovery of the national independence were 
over, it was discovered that the government was entirely un- 
prepared for their reception. The necessity of unanimity in the 
ministry was a flattering evidence of the idea of responsibility 
which its members began to attach, for the first time in France, 
to their respective ofiices; and this impression, in its turn, satis- 
fied the king that it would be impossible for a body of men, in 
whom such discordance of sentiment prevailed, to hold together 
without a reconciliation effected by mutual concession. The 
breach, however, instead of closing, grew wider and wider every 
day, till the knowledge of it extended beyond the precincts of 
the court. It was at first whispered about, and then very gene- 
rally announced, (though the newspapers dared not mention it,) 
that a change of administration must take place, since it was 
understood that the Due de Richelieu, M. Laine, Comte Mole, 
and perhaps Roy and Pasquier, were in favour of securing a 

* Since the above was writtep, the uUra-royalists have got into power. 



g8l 

aiajoritj bj a partial coalition with the ultras; while Decazes 
and Gouvion St. Cyr, were disposed to lean on the liberal side of 
the house. This division became, in the end, so violent, that 
during the last eight or ten days of December, the court was 
convulsed by it. The kino;, from personal affection for Mr. De- 
cazes; from the recollection of the tranquillity which his mea* 
sures had restored to France, and the evident justice of his more 
liberal views, was inclined to concur with him. But the clamour 
of his old friends, the importunity of his family, and the wishes 
of his allies, weighed heavily in favour of the Due de Richelieu. 
It was consequently given out at court, in order to feel the 
pulse of the Chambers, that the former g:entleman was about to 
be sent into honourable exile, as ambassador to the Court of St. 
Petersburg. Durino; this period of anxious suspense, whilst joy 
and triumph were sparkling in some of the gilded saloons of the 
Faubourg St. Germains, where the royalists ''par excellence" 
chiefly reside, a general alarm and inquietude prevailed through- 
out Paris and the kingdom; the Chamber of Deputies exhibited 
evident signs of consternation; the public stocks continued to 
fall with ruinous rapidity; commerce was suspended; and the 
national mind seemed to be working itself up to a pitch of dan- 
gerous excitement. A number of public functionaries, distin- 
guished for their attachment to constitutional doctrines sent in 
their resignations; and such seemed to be the general sentiment of 
the instability of the proposed ministry, that many were disposed 
to repeat the facetious remark of Mr Sheridan, when Mr. Ad- 
dington was endeavouring to form his aurelian administration: 
''I have not been out for the last twenty-four hours except in a 
carriage— I am afraid of the press of ministers " 

The city of Paris really exhibited a most curious spectacle 
during this period of suspense. The Caffes were filled at an 
early hour every morning by a bustling multitude, eagerly in- 
quisitive after news — the boulevards, bourse, and public gardens 
were full of little groups with anxious countenances; and yet a 
stranger might have concluded, from the silence of the newspa- 
pers, that not the slightest agitation existed in Paris. The 
throne, however, in spite of its elevation, felt the wave of public 
opinion, and from the heaviness of the jar, they conjectured the 
depth of the profound from which it issued. On the morning of 



2S% 

ijhe 29th, therefore, the clouds of inquietude and alarm broke 
up — the Moniteur announced, that the health of the Due de Ri- 
ohelieu had become suddenly so delicate, as to require a journey 
to the south for its recovery; and that his majesty had been conse- 
quently obliged to accept his resignation, and organize a new 
ministry. The Marquis DessoUes, who was highly esteemed for 
his gallantry and integrity; who had been, as commander of the 
National Guard of Paris, eminently zealous for the restoration, 
and who had been since distinguished for liberality, was announ- 
ced as President of the Council. The ministry of the Police was 
incorporated into that of the Interior for Mr. Decazes. Aiarecl.al 
St. Cyr, who was popular in the army and nation, was conti- 
nued as Minister of War; M. Louis, a friend to the Charter, and 
a good financier, took the place of M. Roy; and M. de Serre, a 
man of brilliant parts, and a member of a small liberal junta, 
called "^^es doctrinaires," from their peculiar tenets, became 
Keeper of the Seals; and M. Portal, Minister of Marine. A 
spontaneous burst of gratitude and joy, which was the more 
lively from the previous despondency of the public mind, fol- 
lowed the appointment of this ministry; for it was considered 
the triumph of free principles over feudal prejudices, and the 
wedge which would separate constitutional France from despo- 
tic Europe. 



LETTER XVII. 

Paris, April 5th, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

The liberal party in this country considered the departure 
of the allied army as the liberation, and the appointment of the 
new ministry as the emancrpation, of France. Their expecta- 
tions, however, were raised too high by this sudden triumph. 
The seeds of disappointment were sown by the sano;uine extra- 
vagance of their hopes, and the eager precipitancy of their de- 
mands. They seem to have imagined that the golden scales of 
Astrea were about to descend, and fix permanently in the realm 
©f France^ They neither reflected on the difficulty with which 
the triumph had been achieved, nor on the previous reserve and 
hesitating liberality of the king; nor on the innumerable diffi- 
culties which the first really constitutional ministry must ine- 
vitably encounter in its march. In an honest conviction of the 
necessity of certain guarantees to liberty, which they regarded 
as the consequences flowing from the charter, they immediately 
ran on in imagination to the accomplishment of a system of free 
government, without ever apprehending, that the hurry with 
which they pressed their measures might embarrass the minis- 
try, and alarm the cautious reluctance with which the king 
yielded to ameliorations. Their writers therefore contended for 
the prompt repeal of all laws violating the charter; for the sub- 
stitution of the legal responsibility of authors and printers, in 
lieu of the censorship of the press; for the establishment of the 
independence of juries, which are now selected by an officer of 
the crown; for the clear responsibility of ministers and the infe- 
rior agents of government; for a re-organization of the muni- 
cipal system of the kingdom, that might give to the towns, vil- 
lages and communes, the right of appointing their own mayors, 
(which officers, 44,000 in number, are now appointed by the 



284 

government to the great detriment of the local interests;) for a 
re-organization of the national guard, so as to exempt private 
citizens from martial law; for the creation of an act for the se- 
curity of persons, similar to the English act of Habeas Corpus: 
and for the revision of the penal code of the imperial regime, 
which was deemed infinitely too tyrannical for a representative 

monarchy. 

This concise enumeration of French grievances may enable 
you to see that this nation has lived, even in the interval of 
o-reatest relief since the restoration, under the weight of many 
heavy and vexatious institutions, which were created by despot- 
ism and have survived its overthrow. The political surface of 
France is therefore, in spite of the charter, an intaglio on which 
the figures and forms of despotism remain. The liberals were 
impatient to get rid of these, and remembered Lord Bacon's 
suggestion in speaking of science; that "men may be assured, 
that a fond opinion they have already acquired enough, is a 
principal reason why they have acquired so little;" and also 
that the sharp arraignment of the imperfections of existing things 
is much more serviceable to a state, than a diffusive harangue of 
praise and gratulation. 

But although the new ministry were not able to keep pace 
with the swiftness with which public opinion swept on to im- 
provement, it commenced a system of moderate reform, highly 
honourable to its patriotism and philanthropy. It created two 
commissions for the improvement of agriculture, and for the en- 
couragement of national industry, to the consequences of which 
I may call your attention hereafter. It next prevailed on the 
king to extend his mercy to some of those unfortunate beings 
who had fallen under the ban of royal displeasure after the 
troubles of the hundred days. General Radet was released 
from confinement, and General Travot, who had been condemn- 
ed to perpetual imprisonment, was likewise set at liberty; but 
unhappily, the afilictions of confinement had destroyed his rea- 
son. General Allix, an officer of high merit, distinguished alike 
for his attainments in science, and his gallantry in arms; and 
General Excelmans, with whose renown you are familiar, were 
also restored to their families and homes. 



S85 

The ministers next brought forward in the chambers a project 
of a law for the responsibility of ministers; which, notwith- 
standing the charter, was yet a great desideratum in the consti- 
tutional regime of France; for no monarchy in which the infal- 
libility of the crown is not admitted, can be a tolerable form of 
government. The principle, therefore, that the king can do no 
wrong, is, (in spite of its paradoxical appearance, and the scorn 
with which ignorant misinterpreters deride it) the fundamental 
basis of liberty in a monarchy; for it amounts to the assertion 
that the king can do nothing at all by himself; but that all the 
acts of his government are the deeds of responsible agents. 
The experience of all ages proves, that the legal responsibility 
of a sovereign is a mere shadow; since it is always in his power 
to set any punishment at defiance, save that which results from 
the precarious desperation of an assassin, or the terrible ven- 
geance of successful rebellion. With the treasures of the state, 
and a standing army at his disposal, there is scarcely any atro- 
city that he may not perpetrate with impunity. The constitu- 
tion should therefore raise the throne above the reo-ion of 
storms; it should be the mere ornamental and consolidatinfr 
key-stone of the arch of state, which supports nothing, but 
which crowns the whole, and is supported by it. The king 
should be inviolable, because he is intangible. The minister, 
who plans and executes a measure, should be answerable for its 
consequences, because he may be touched without endangering 
the public tranquillity. When the minister is thus the real 
king, monarchy is deprived of its sting, and converted into a 
commonwealth. I am aware that prejudice imagines this re- 
straint incompatible with the dignity of a true monarch; but 
common sense knows it to be reciprocally advantageous to king 
and subject. It is a security to each; for the king is always at 
liberty to do Vv'hat is right; nor vi^ill he ever lack ministers to 
execute just orders; and if he be inclined to do wrong, although 
he might find no courtier honest enough to tell him so, he will 
see it, in the fears of his minister. 

I by no means intend to bestow an unqualified eulogium on 
the law of responsibility which that ministry proposed, for it 
was evidently inadequate to its object, and of so vague and loose 
a contexture, that it would have been infinitely difficult to pun- 

37 



386 

ish a minister under it, for any crime sanctioned by the crown. 
But the very recognition of the principle set forth in the charter 
was a salutary event, calculated to extend the comprehension 
of the nature of just government; and whenever this might be 
elearly understood, the defects of that law, (the shelter which it 
afforded to the inferior officers of state, and the screens it held 
out to cover ministerial obliquity,) could have been easily re- 
moved. In truth, however, no law of ministerial responsibility 
can be otherwise than illusive in France, whilst the government 
retains the present establishment of conseillers cPetat,"^ a sort of 
aninistry behind the curtain, which eludes the hands of the law 
by invisibility. It is a tribunal of administration composed of 
judges, removable at will, in whose dt^crees the nation finus not 
even the security of publicity; whose powers are limited by no 
law, and whose increase of numbers is checked by no boundary, 
save the inability of the treasury. It is an excellent asylum to 
pension sycophants, and put discarded ministers on half pay. 
But whilst such pernicious institutions of despotism exist under 
a constitutional government, the abyss of revolution can never 
be closed. 

Some apology for the slow and embarrassed proceedings of 
the ministry of 1819, may be found in the dispositions of the 
Chamber of Peers, a majority of which was in opposition to the 
government, and willing at any cost to impede its constitutional 
march. Now, surely, in a country in which the foundations of 
Aristocracy had been broken up, and in which the political pri- 
vileges of the Peers rested, neither on the solid basis of anti- 
quity, nor of public affection , nothing could have been more rash 
and ill advised, than for the upper house to make an ungeiicrous 
effort to curtail and break down the independence of the com- 
mons. Such an attempt, which would have been invidious ixx 
any country, was disastrous in France, where it tended to smo- 
ther the embryo of esteem which the Lords were beginning to 
acquire, and revived the old idea, that there was a natural and 
inevitable opposition of interest between the nobility and the 
people. Yet, notwithstanding these considerations, the Chani- 
ber of Peers, forgetting its loyalty and its interests, had the 
temerity to propose a change in the law of elections. By a very 

* Sec Les Constitutions, par Lanjumais. 



aS7 

cunning stratagem, the ultras who instigated this measure, pr«' 
vailed on the Marquis Barthelemi, a new man, to bring it for- 
ward, and thus sheltered themselves from the odium of offend- 
ing the wishes of the King, and the desires of the nation. The 
Marquis is a man, who, after having floated with complacency 
on the tide of everj government, had acquired the reputation of 
inoffensive honesty, but had reached that age at which physical 
debility sometimes impairs the faculties of the mind. He had 
been in succession a Secretary of Choiseul, an agent of Louis 
XVI., an Ambassador of the Convention, a Director of the Re- 
public, a Comte and Senator of the Empire; and finally, a Mar- 
quis and Peer of the Kingdom. 

All France was in repose when the torch of discord was thus 
uselessly lighted by a faction, that seemed resolved, like Ne- 
mesis, when she could no longer wound by the javelin in her 
right hand, to disturb the public quiet by reflecting black images 
from the mirror in her left. Tiie mere suggestion of this change 
placed the government in the most embarrassing predicament, 
and filled the nation with alarm. This attack on the only guar^ 
antee of the rights and liberties of the nation, had been so clan- 
destinely resolved on in the political conclave, that the minis- 
try had no apprehension of it; so that not a member of the 
Cabinet was present when it was made. A messenger instantly 
summoned Mr. Decazes to the Luxembourg, and he combatted 
the motion with ingenuity and eloquence. But although he de- 
nounced it as the most fatal suggestion that ever sprung from, 
the breast of that assembly; as a question which threw the nevf 
interests of the kingdom into jeopardy; which endangered every 
right, and shook the foundations of every fortune in the kingdom^ 
the majority of the Chamber voted to receive the proposition. 

The law of elections was dear to the French, because it was 
the only practical result of the charter; and because they felt 
that if the choice of deputies were once placed in the hands of 
the crown and noblesse, that France would soon present a poli- 
tical solecism'^a nation living in servitude under a free charter.* 
Nor could they doubt that the next attempt would be to recon- 
cile the constitutional declaration of equality of rights with feu- 
dal privileges and tythes — liberty of education with instruction 

* Such she has since become under the present ultra ministry, (1822.) 



38S 

in the hands of the Jesuits-— religious freedom with the inquisi- 
tion, and personal liberty with the Bastile. 

The alleged reason for the change was one of those ingenious 
sophisms which are always at hand to excuse the encroachments 
of tytaiiny, and which deserves to be remembered as an instance 
of the facility with which the most sinister design may assume 
the semblance of justice. It was contended, that as every man, 
who paid a direct contribution of 300 francs, was entitled to a 
vote, and that as two thirds of the electors were those paying 
from 300 to 700 francs, that therefore all the members were 
chosen by these, v/hilst the other third, who paid above 700, 
elected none at all! This modest assumption of an innate op- 
position of opinion between the larger and the smaller contribu- 
tors — this paltry, flimsy, miserable web of sophistry, was spread 
out with such dexterity, that many an honest simpleton was en- 
tangled in it, and some, in their perplexity, thought it justified 
an attempt to force the nation to an abdication of its rights. In 
America, where we are not fond of the curve line of grace in 
political argument — where we march up straight to the question, 
and enter the breach at the point of the bayonet of common 
sense, it is very difficult, I know — nay, almost impossible, to 
conceive the round-about v/ay in w^hich they discuss matters of 
state in this country. 

During the agitation of this question in the House of Peers, 
the public funds continued to fall; bankruptcies multiplied; com- 
merce declined; fear and trembling shook the body politic, and 
a multitude of petitions against the change flocked in from every 
quarter of the kingdom. Happy, indeed, might it have been for 
the stability of this throne, for the tranquillity of France, and 
for the consolidation of a constitutional system in the South of 
Europe, if the Deputies had manifested an equally perverse dis- 
position, and had thus obliged the ministry to dissolve the 
Chamber, and augment its members. A free election at that 
time when the tide of rojal and ministerial opinion was running 
in a constitutional channel, would have elected a Chamber of 
Deputies with opinions in harmony with the body of the nation, 
and whose exertions might have closed up for ever the passages 
leading back to an arbitrary regime. Hut destiny decreed it 
otherwise, and France is fated to plunge and flounce about for 



289 

some time longer in a sea of troubles. I would not be under- 
stood as approving the penal dissolution of an assembly in any 
but a deplorable exigency. Every act which tends to create the 
dependence of one branch of government on another, is to be 
deprecated; and the day may come when Mr. Pitt's dissolution 
of Parliament in 1784 may be regretted as a dangerous innova- 
tion in England. 

When the French ministers discovered that the majority of 
the Upper Chamber were against them, they resolved on a very 
violent measure, the creation of sixty peers in a day. The 
emergency was great 1 admit, but the measure was dangerous 
as a precedent. The restoration of the members who had been 
set aside in 1815, would have been an act of salutary justice; 
for it is a just remark of Bolingbroke, that if the crown could 
unmake, as well as make Peers, "it would be a jest to talk of 
three estates, since there would be virtually and in effect but 
two; and therefore our constitution provided against it." But 
this inspiration of wisdom was wanting in France. The gov- 
ernment, instead of reinstating the dispossessed peers, created 
anew such of them as it restored, and by thus recognizing the 
power of elimination in the crown, sapped the foundations of 
the independence of the Chamber. 

Among those who were raised to the peerage on that day, 
were some whose deeds brighten the history of France; some 
whose private virtues render them dear to the nation; and some 
whose historical names are an essential appendage to the throne 
of the Bourbons. Among them was Moncey, the oldest and 
poorest of the French Maiechals. Such is the integrity of this 
man's reputation, that it is said that Joseph Bonaparte, in speak- 
ing of him to his brother, remarked that he was the only one of 
Napoleon's Marechals who could travel in Spain without a 
guard. He had been condemned to three month's imprisonment 
by the royal government in 1815, for refusing to sit on Ney's 
trial, and had lost all standing at court for a letter to the king, 
which would have rendered even a Roman illustrious. There 
were also promoted at that time, Les Marechals Suchet, Lefeb- 
vre, Davoust, Jourdan, and Mortier— -generals Claparede, liapp, 
Reille, Rampcn, ilijeon, ard Sparre— Chaptal, Cadore, Cornu 
det, Daru, LacepeUe, Mounier, Mollien, Portalisj Montesquieu 



S90 

^nd St. Simon. This bold and vigorous measure by whicli 
Mr. Decazes overthrew the liberticide scheme of demolition, 
not only disconcerted the projects of the ultras, and invigorated 
the hopes of the liberals, but was followed by very salutary ef- 
fects on the affairs of the nation. It restored buoyancy to public 
credit, and gave an air of stability to public institutions. It 
reconciled liberty to power, and in spite of the hootings of the 
partizans of prerogative, it opened the national heart, and filled 
it with gratitude and rejoicing.* 

When confidence and repose were thus happily restored, the 
ministry felt itself at liberty to pursue with enlightened caution 
the plan of moderate and rational reform, by which it meant to 
place the institutions of France in harmony with the principles 
ot the charter But the tortuous and irregular policy of pre- 
ceding administrations had accumulated many difficulties in 
their way, and not the least of their restraints, perhaps, was the 
exceeding wariness of the king;, who influenced by the recollec- 
tion of the vicissitudes of his own fortunes, and by the memory 
of the many great events he had seen arise from trivial changes, 
could not be induced to step but with excessive caution. The 
restless and implacable hostility too, of the king's personal 
friends to his ministers, kept his suspicions of the danger of in- 
novation perpetually awake. The cabinet, therefore, afraid of 
alarming the jealous prejudices of the monarch, and still anxious 
to incline their policy to the views of the liberals, whose impa- 
tience would scarcely brook an adjournment of justice, were ob- 
liged to assume a sort of mysterious inertness, that gratified their 
enemies and disappointed their friends. The former snarled at 
their embarrassment, and the latter clamoured at their" delay, 
until their very reticence was charged on them as an evidence of 
their incapacity or their heresy. At last, however, in the month 
of April a law was proposed for the emancipation of the press, 
or rather for the substitution of certain pains and penalties for 
its abuses, in lieu of the previous censorship. This law did not 

* Nine of the disseized Peers were not included, and among these were M. He 
Segur, one of the most brilliant writers and statesmen in France, — the Due de 
Praslin'— Dagier, a venerable old rnan, who devotes a large portion of his fortune 
to the erection and support of provincial hospitals — Fabre, aa able financier, and 
generals Gassendi and Yalenee. 



891 

entirely satisfy the fifty or sixty liberal deputies, and must be 
admitted to have contained cramps enough to have made it in- 
tolerable in a free country; but it was a noble acquisition ia 
France, and one, which if it had been maintained would have 
enlarged the political capacity of this nation, and given it in 
a short time a just conception of the excellency of free govern- 
ment. It transferred the cognizance of the oft'ences of the press 
from the hands of the correctional police into those of a court 
or jury, and would have been for this reason alone a great 
conquest, since punishment by law is regular and there- 
fore, however severe, is fair; but punishment by an arbitrary 
police is uncertain or capricious, and therefore unjust. That 
law held the editor responsible for all he published, even though 
the author's name were attached to the publication! It required 
an editor to deposit, as a security for his good conduct, tea 
thousand francs de rentes — suppressed a paper during the ar- 
raignment of its editor — required a signed copy to be delivered 
to the prefect or mayor before publication— compelled the editor 
to publish any ordinance or report of the government when re- 
quired, and in defining libels went so far as to declare, that all 
allegations or imputations whatever that went to disjarage 'Hhe 
honour or the consideration^^ of a man, were defamation! 

M. de Serre, the keeper of the seals, a man of high feelings 
and impetuous imagination, recommended this law with an elo- 
que ce that heiglitened the reputation he had already acquired, 
by the vehement harangue in which he vindicated the law of 
elections. If the bill was not as generous as patriotism might 
have desired, the effulgent liberality of the minister's speech 
compensated for its defects, and promised such a gradual en- 
largement of the freedom of the press, as delighted the French 
people. In spite of all the bad regimes that have jaded and op- 
pressed this nation, it still knows that it is as necessary for an 
unjust government to censorize the press, as it is for a highway- 
man to gag the traveller he means to plunder. The minister j 
therefore, who proclaims his fearlessness of the press gives a 
strong indication of the integrity of his views, and if believed, 
never fails to be esteemed by the public. 

Soon after that speech, however, xM.de Serre, who had hitherto 
supported with such beautiful rehemence the cause of reform, 



g9S 

experienced some personal contrarieties that considerably abated 
the ardour of his zeal, and estranged him from liberal doctrines. 
It was imagined by some that the popularity he acquired by that 
brilliant discourse alarmed the jealous ambition of M. Decazes, 
who being desirous of singular distinction himself, was impatient 
at the appearance of any rival that mightjostle or elbow him out 
of the rord to pre-eminence; and who, therefore, intrigued so 
adroitly through the king, as to induce M. de Serre to utter some 
illiberal sentiments that overthrew his popularity. But subse- 
quent circumstances have not entirely verified this conjecture. 
I should rather suspect his alienation from the liberal party,with 
-which he had nearly become identified, although it might have 
commenced in that way, was actually produced by a concurrence 
of disastrous accidents, that fretted and provoked a temper ra- 
ther too susceptible of excitement. He was connected with the 
Swiss troops and of course fond ot them. To these the Liberals 
had an invincible antipathy. They deprecated as an act of fla- 
.grant injustice the employment of foreigners with extraordinary 
pay, when old French soldiers were condemned by poverty to 
the thrashing of corn in granaries and the pounding of stones on 
the highways.* A rancorous antipathy between the French and 
Swiss, which arose from this cause, had been inflamed by private 
quarrels until at last blood had been shed on both sides. The 
Swiss officers without inquiring into the merits of the case 
made a violent demand for the prompt punishment of the French, 
and on the other hand, many of the departments sent up peti- 
tions to the Chamber of Deputies praying for the i;emoval of the 
Swiss regiments. The Liberals hailed these petitions with zeal- 
ous indiscretion; — for whatever may have been the justice on 
their side, they should have made some allowance for the pri- 
vate prejudices, and, perhaps, unavowable apprehensions of the 
royal family, and might have anticipated the sinister interpreta- 
tion that would be given at court to their eager intercession on 
this subject. I do not know that we can expect it of any party 
to act with prudence on every occasion, but those, who are deli- 
berately aiming at the attainment of aa uncertain object, should 
remember tliat an invading force sometimes serves the purposes 

* See Etienne's Letters. 



293 

of its adversaries by marching too rapidly, as in the games of the 
Promethean fable, the torch as frequently went out from the 
fleetness, as from the sluggishness of the courser's motion. You 
will observe in time however the sad consequences of that im- 
provident impatience. 

Another circumstance contributed to exasperate M. de Serre, 
and to prevent his matriculation into the Cotf^ Gauche. The libe- 
ral party had uniformly contended against the existence under 
the charter, of a right in the crown to punish or exile any indivi- 
dual, without an open investigation of his conduct, and a legal 
condemnation of it. This arbitrary power however, had been as- 
sumed by the crown after the second restoration, and the Chambre 
introuvable, had passed a law^, expelling from France the regi- 
cides and persons most obnoxious to the ultra royalists. Now the 
ministry of 1819, did not hesitate to admit that this proscription 
was contrary to the charter, which guaranteed personal securitv, 
and oblivion of all past actions to the subject, but they contended 
that as the law had been carried into effect, its repeal would be a 
full pardon to these exiles, and that as this was repugnant to the 
feelings of the royal family, it was the duty of France to await quiet- 
ly the relentings of the king's mercy. The Cotp Gauche on the con- 
trary conceived that as the edict was unconstitutional, it ouglitto 
be declared null and void, since to suffer its continuance would be 
to sanction its principle. In the course of the debate which grew 
out of this subject, M. de Serre, who as minister of justice, might as 
well have been absent, let fall an unguarded suggestion, that the 
petitions included the Bonapartists, and that whether they did or 
not, the king would never consent to them. This intemperate de- 
claration was the signal of irreconcilable war between him and the 
liberal party. The press immediately opened its batteries on both 
sides, and virulent pliilippics every day widened the breach be- 
tween them. The ephemeral popularity of M, de Serre was then 
suddenly broken down, and the jealous inquietude of M. Decazes 
subsided along with it, so that these two statesmen became re- 
conciled into a very cordial union with each other That seces- 
sion was a loss of greater moment to the liberals than they at 
first apprehended, for no zeal is more intense than that of a neo- 
phyte from irritation. In the ensuing session of the chamber, a 
dozen votes became of infinite importance to the destinies of 



294 

Europe, as weTl as to the liberties of France, and the influence of 
M. de Serre, which carried half the platoon of the Doctrinaires 
into the scale of power, caused it to preponderate. 

In the heat of the debate on the exiles, M. de Serre, went 
perhaps farther than he was warranted in his declaration ot the 
rojal implacability, for the king immediately after partly ap- 
peased the general murmur it excited, by the recal of Marechal 
Suult, and four or five other generals from banishment. The pub- 
lic would have been still more higtily gratified to have seen Ar- 
nault, the author of Marius at Minturneee, also recalled, for as 
DO treason or love of the imperial regime could be imputed to 
him, they ascribed his absence to an aversion in the government, 
from men who had consecrated their lives to the advancement of 
the cause of true freedom. 

The liberal party urged his recall as they did every other mea- 
sure with an eager intentness that shook the stability of the min- 
istry, and induced some of its members to caution them, that if 
they pressed the government too hard in their demands of consti- 
tutional laws, the king would revolt from his present course, and 
throw the government into the hands of the oligarchy. But warn- 
ings were lost upon them. They thought the wind too high m their 
favour, for the government to resist it, and therefore went on with 
all sail set, to their ruin. The Minerva an hebdomadal paper, 
edited with great ability by a party of liberals, was almost as 
violent against the ministry, for its scanty liberality, as theCon- 
servateur, the oracle of the ultras, was from an apprehension 
of its flooding France with innovations. It styled the ministry 
'^'une bigarrure d' administration," isolated in the midst of the 
nation, having none but pensioned creatures for its supporters, 
and flatterers for its counsellors — upbraided it with floating about 
in perpetual uncertainty; with calling to its aid to day, those it 
denounced yesterday; with frightening the left by the projects of 
the right, and terrifying the right by the projects of the left It 
contended, that although the French had given up their rights 
at the shrine of glory, they would never submit to relinquish 
them tor no equivalent; that all they now asked was the fair exe- 
cution of the Ciiarier, which by guaranteeing all rights and pro- 
tec li^g all existenciesj would give repose and stability to^govern- 
ment. 



2m 

That there was much truth in all this, I am not at all disposed 
to deny; but now that the short career of this ministry is finished, 
it is due to candour to declare, that France has never had one 
surrounded with equal obstacles, that did as much in the same 
space of time for the amelioration of her internal condition. 
They urged the king as much, and pushed him as far, as his sen- 
sitive jealousy of prerogative would permit; and his hesitations 
alone might have obliged them to manoeuvre, instead of march- 
ing boldly forward with a firm and elastic step. 80 long as tiiey 
were obliged to retain the great mass of executive officers, brought 
into power by the re-action of 1815, when the decks were swept 
to make way for new-comers, it would have been impossible to 
carry into efficient operation the principles of the charter As 
some diversity of opinion prevailed too in the ministry, a part 
of which was unwilling to proceed further, before they had well 
observed the effects of the present relaxation of tyranny, it was 
iudged most expedient to adjourn the questions of the municipal 
organization, the national guards, the jury, penal code, &c. till 
after the result of the next election was known. 

As a friend to rational liberty all over the world, I feel bound 
in expressing my admiration of the doctrines of the liberal party, 
to censure their conduct, for the acrimony with which they ar- 
raigned the irregular march of the government, and for the im- 
prudence of the suspicions with which they falsified the sincerity 
of those ministers. I believe I have sufficiently pointed out to 
you already, the clogs which embarrassed the movements of 
these, to enable you to account for the seeming discrepancy 
between their opinions and policy. They did little or notlunsf 
that was wrong, and can only be said to have ''left undone some 
things that they ought to have done." But the Liberals ac*ed 
with a sort of Epimethean improvidence, before the game was 
in their own hands. They fixed their eyes on the stars that 
glittered on the mountain before them, and examined so little 
the way on which they were advancing, that they forgot its 
slipperiness; so that in attempting to stride too far, they fell 
back like the stoue of Sysiphus, and have had their labours to 
beo;in anew. 

If the revelations of time should not confirm my conjecture of 
the restraint in which the ministry of 1819 were held by the 



S96 

court, posterity will very freely condemn their want of political 
wisdom. After they had begun the work of reform, they ought 
to have taken no holyday — no repose from their labours, until 
their work was done. What they had acccomplished offended 
one party, and what they had not accomplished, offended the 
other. The position in which France was placed, at the close 
of the Session, was false and insecure; and was actually, in its 
consequences, fatal to them. The charter was alleged to be 
the inviolable, fundamental, and even unalterable law of the 
state: and yet some acts, manifestly infringing it, were suffered 
to remain, whilst the press was set at liberty to attack them.'— 
The election of the third series of members was approaching, 
and nearly all the public functionaries, whose influence was 
necessarily considerable in the elections, were in opposition not 
only to the nation, but to the government; and although the pre- 
carious tenure, by which they held their offices, might prevent 
their impertinent interference against the ministers, it could not 
prevent the secret effects of their hostility; for suppleness is no 
guarantee for fidelity. The body of electors, too, was angered 
at this continuance in office of men whom they regarded as 
aliens to their interests; and in spite of the conciliatory disposi- 
tions which were then beginning to prevail between the govern- 
ment and people, were induced, by this prominent evil alone, 
to distrust the intentions of the ministers. All these circum- 
stances combined to defeat the end of ministerial manoeuvering 
in the elections of last year, and to prevent the return of men 
of a ductile and acquiescent nature. 

The Liberals undoubtedly imagined, that it was impossible 
for the government, after the dissolution of the Richelieu min- 
istry, and the consequent failure of the attempt to change the 
law of elections, to recur with success to any similar experi- 
ment in future. But they contemplated their hopes more than 
their powers, and forgot how quickly "nature falls into revolt, 
when gold becomes her object." Had they been fully aware of 
the precarious independence of the Chambers, they might have 
acquiesced in the delay of the repeal of the obnoxious laws, and 
consented to have seen them bind France for a few months 
longer to the Promethean pillar of necessity, since time was 
forging the arrows with which the political Hercules might 
slay the vultures that tormented her. 



LETTER XVIIT. 

Paris, April, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

Nothing could have been more enlivening than the prospect of 
prosperity which opened on France in the summer of 1819. The 
reins of her government were then in the hands of intelligent men, 
whose policy gave an universal stimulus to industry. Petty di- 
versities of opinion as to the rapidity or extent of the reform of 
administration, may have given some trifling irregularity to the 
public pulse, but cannot be considered as having impaired the 
general soundness of the body politic, or lessened the hearty 
confidence with which this nation looked forward to the enjoy- 
ment of a long season of health and vigour. It seemed as if the 
bark of state, after much tossing and heaving about on the sea of 
revolution, was ready to cast anchor permanently in the halcyon 
haven of constitutional liberty. The consequences of the ame- 
liorated political state of France,, were the rapid improvement 
of her manufactures, and the recovery of her commerce from the 
effects of the war. The season too, happened to be uncom- 
monly propitious, and the earth brought forth a plentiful sqpply 
of corn, and wine, and fruit, of every description. 

To gratify the public curiosity and vanity, the government 
ordered an exposition of the products of national industry; and 
no scene could be more brilliant than that which Paris exhibited 
during the months of September and October. A crowd of 
foreigners flocked in from every country of Europe, to enjoy the 
splendid exhibition; and during the first week after the opening 
of the Louvre, more than 20,000 English alone are said to have 
arrived in this capital. The disheartened vanity of the French 
was re-vivified by this admiration of their productions, and the 
press consequently teemed with extravagant encomiums on the 
perfection of the arts in France, and on the charms of Paris, a^ 



298 

^e metropolis of civilization, and the centre of all earthly 
elegance. 

The change which had taken place in France since I passed 
through it on my way to Italy, in the autumn of 1818, was 
almost incredible. A new life seemed to be infused into every 
department of government. The liberty of the press alone had 
awakened such an interest in public affairs, that the mails were 
carried in two thirds of the time they had hitherto required. 
Carriages had been substituted universally for tumbril carts in 
their conveyance, and the journeys to Lyons and Bordeaux, 
which, in 1818, had required respectively one hundred and one 
hundred and seven hours, were now performed in sixty, and 
sixty seven, being at the rate of about five English miles an 
hour. Every occupation, in fact, felt the quickening effects of 
the nevv^ system, until the government began to recoil from its 
liberal concessions. 

The prosperous condition of France would have given the min- 
isters great influence at the annual elections, but for one or two 
blunders, which offended the electors, and heightened the dis- 
trust which the limping pace of the government had already ex- 
cited. Among these was the impolitic and unjustifiable arrest of 
M. Bavoux, a professor of law, in one of the colleges of Paris. 
This gentleman in a lecture on the penal code of France, had 
expressed some strictures on the defects of one of the criuiinal 
laws. Two or three young ecclesiastics, present by design, hissed 
the professor, and the impertinent interruption excited a burst of 
indignation trom the students. Some police agents seized M. Ba- 
voux, who was hurried off to prison, on the charge of preaching 
insubordination to the laws. A pack of domiciliary visitors 
broke into his house, seized his papers, and delivered all his let- 
ters, notes and manuscripts, into the hands of M. Bellart the at- 
torney general, who being a violent politician of the antique 
school commenced a prosecution. The college was closed, and 
some loOO students from every part of France, turned into the 
streets, where whilst their feelings were highly excited, police 
spies in disguise were introduced among them, and the most im- 
prudent ot the young men hurried to prison. After some delay 
the professor was brought to trial, and the worst of his notes 
was discovered to be a quotation from (as well as I remember) 



299 

Delohme on the British constitution. There is less servility ih 
France at present, than in England under Charles II., and there- 
fore xMr. Bavoux escaped the fate of Sydney. 

Another error was the encouragement of the Jesuits, and the 
scheme ot surrendering the education of youth into tiie hands of 
the priesthood. These impolitic measures were atttributed to the 
esurient ambition of M. Decazes, who, having hitherto succeed- 
ed in all his undertakings, was fancied to be now intriguing to ac- 
quire a fee simple tenure of the helm of government, by pleasing 
the Comte D'Artois. You will see in the end how he duped no- 
body but himself, and how the ultras, whom he meant to inveigle, 
ensnared him, and then cleared 'Miis visual nerve with euphrasy 
and rue." — The first consequence of the resolution to put edu- 
cation into the hands of the clergy, (many of whom were half edu- 
cated young men, who blended political fanaticism with religious 
bigotry,) was the resignation of Royer Collard, the director gen- 
eral of education, a man of fine talents, and the fa'ther of the po- 
litical sect of Doctrinaires. 

There were fifty-one members whose term expired in September 
1819, of whom twenty-one were ultras, twenty-six ministerialists, 
and four liberals. Now the sentiments of the French nation may be 
pretty fairly collected from the characters of the new members, 
four of whom were ultras, eight ministerialists, and thirty-nine 
liberals. This result threw the oligarchy into despair, and the 
ministry into consterna^^ion. The first impulse of M Decazes is 
said to have been to yield to this unequivocal expression of the 
national will, and to adopt such measures as would have produced 
the true eucrasy of the French constitution. But he was induced 
by the influence of the court, or by reflection, or by a dread of the 
competition of the powerful talents of the Cote Gauche, to relin- 
quish the scheme. He was aware that he could never be the favo- 
rite statesman of the liberals, and was perhaps alarmed by the un- 
bounded elation of this party which now boldly proclaimed, that 
after the election of the next fifth it would have the majority. 

The late election proved one fact at least, that there were but 
two parties in France, the friends of a representative government 
and the partizans of the ancient regime. Imperialists and jaco- 
bins, republicans and doctrinaires were all merged either into the 
party which demanded the consoiidation of a limited monarchy, 



300 

or that which contended for the divine delegation of kings. As 
it was evident that the ministerial party, or the centre, was a fac- 
titious corps, created by the government, and no longer a major- 
ity, there was an absolute necessity for the ministry to identify 
themselves with the right or the left. This necessity created a di- 
vision in the cabinet. — Dessoles, St. Cyr, and Louis, were in fa- 
vour of a coalition with the liberals, but Decazes, De Serre, and 
Portal, were inclined to unite with the royalists. This opposition 
grew warmer as the opening of the session approached — all the 
cords and pulleys of intrigue were put in motion around the de- 
puties, and the delightful tranquillity of the public mind was again 
disturbed, until a factious estuation v/as brought on in every part 
of the kingdom. 

The liberal party had gained a great accession of talent as 
well as numbers, by the late election. The acquisition of Ge- 
neral Foy alone would have been a triumph; for he is possessed 
of a character as fitted to excel in legislation as in war. His 
political sentiments are the inspirations of a high sense of ho- 
nour, combined with an ardent devotion to liberty; and the style 
of manly and polished eloquence in which he delivers them, 
commands even the admiration of his opponents. But among 
the new appointments was one, that of the Abbe Gregoire^ 
which was so very unfortunate in its effects, and so illustrative 
of the unfairness of the spirit of faction, that it is necessary to 
call your attention particularly to the ferment it excited. 

Comte Gregoire, who is now about seventy years of age, was 
in early life an ecclesiastic and professor of a college. As a 
member of the states general, he was one of the first curates that 
went over to the side of the commons, and when the national 
assembly was formed, he became the zealous advocate of politi- 
cal reform and religious toleration. He protested particularly 
against the inhuman treatment of the Jews; against the assem- 
bly receiving a present of Palissot's edition of Voltaire, unless 
it had been freed from the impurities which stained the reputa- 
tion of that author. He opposed zealously the slave trade, 
which last rendered him obnoxious to the colonies; and voted 
for the abolition of royalty in France, because he considered the 
history of kings was that of the martyrdom of nations; "que 
toutes les dynasties n'ont ete que des races devorantes, qui ne 



301 

■vivait que de chair humaine." Yet he proposed the entire abo- 
lition of capital punishment in France, and that Louis XVI. 
should be the first to receive the benefit of that law. When 
tha^ unfortunate monarch was condemned, he was absent in 
Savoy, but is charged with having asserted in a letter that the 
punishment was just During the whole revolutionary re^^ime 
he had been the protector of savans, men of letters and artists. 
The Bureau chs loiiiiitudes and the Conservatory of Arts and 
Sciences, were national establishments of his creation; and as a 
senator and count, which Napoleon had, (after several presenta- 
tions,) made him, his sentiments were in opposition to tyranny. 
Such is the political character of the man against whose elec- 
tion a most violent clamour has been raised, as an outrage to 
royalty, because he had written a letter, (in the reign of terror, 
when a man's life depended on a word,) approving the conduct 
of the Convention. His majority at the late election had arisen 
from the secret support of about seventy ultras who meant to 
take advantage of it, and "marcher au bien par I'exces du mal." 
His election was in fact void from the department of L'Isere, 
because the charter requires half the members to be residents, 
and because this was not the case, and he was the last on the list. 
But the roval cabal were not willina. to exclude him on this 
ground. They talked of relinquishing their seats in the Chamber; 
denounced him as a regicide; and sought to overthrow the law of 
elections by the denunciation. Men who had been the obsequi- 
ous parasites of Fouche and Cambaceres, not only under the 
imperial regime, when such sycophancy might have been deco- 
rous, but after the restoration, now felt it a stain on their ho- 
nour to breathe the same air with Grcgoire. You cannot ima- 
gine what a ferment and clamour this appointment, though void, 
was made to excite The royal family were told, it was an 
insult to them; and for three or four months all France was in 
an uproar about it. 

Unhappilv fur the prosperity of France and the happiness of 
Europe, M. Decazes, who was offended by i'we result of the elec- 
tions, counteiianced this clamour. He was ambitious of ingra- 
tiating hiniself with the royal family, and thought himself se- 
cure of success, because the king had recently prevailed on the 
Duchesse d'Angouleme to hold his child in baptism. The ultras 

S9 



302 

perceived the drift of his vanity, and in order to seduce him 
away from t\\e liberals, began to flatter him by the pros^pect of a 
long continuance in office, if he would repeal the law of elec- 
tions. They adopted the stratagem of Hippomenes; and the 
political dupe, dazzled by the splendour of the golden apples, 
turned out of his way to pick th^m up. 

The true policy of the liberals at that time would have been 
to support M. Decazes; and to obtain by kindness what they 
sought to acquire by force. They forgot the atrocious plans of 
the allied monarchs, as well as the pioneering schemes of the 
ultras; and instead 'of encouraging him to assume, at that cri- 
tical juncture the port of Apollo, drove him by satire into the 
sinuosities and v^^iid caperings of a fawn. Thus he was induced 
to suffer a prosecution of M. M, Gevaudan and Simon, for 
having at their houses meetings of persons friendly to the liber- 
ty of the press. By an article of the penal code, not more than 
twenty persons have a right to assemble at particular times, if 
their object be ' 'political, religious, literary, or any other," 
without the previous permission of the government. The object 
of this law had been to break up the revolutionary clubs; and 
nothing could have been more injudicious than to apply it to a 
society of gentlemen in a city in which it is customary for the 
owners of private hotels to receive company on a particular 
evening in every week. 

Before the meeting of the Chambers, M. Decazes had so fully 
experimented the allurements of governmental favour as to as- 
certain the necessity of a partial coalition with one of the oppo- 
sition parties. It turned out that he was not, like Pygmalion, 
enamoured of his own works; and therefore preferred their de- 
struction to their embellishment. He consequently required of 
the cabinet to consent to change the law of elections, and modify 
the ftharter. Two of the ministers acquiesced; but DessoUes, 
St. Cyr, and Louis, peremptorily refused, and were immediately 
dismissed by the kina;. M. Decazes now touched the highest 
point of his ambition. He became president of the council, and 
prime minister of France. Prince Berthier's magnificent hotel 
was purchased for his accommodation, and his admirers did not 
hesitate to compare the parhelion of his glory, to the ascendant 
sun of William Pitt. Yet several individuals are understood to 



303 

have declined entering the new cabinet, from an impression, 
that when dignity is purchased by apostacy, '*the private sta- 
tion is the post of honour." The new ministers, Pasquier, Roy, 
and Latour Maubourg, were not ultra-royalists, but members of 
the Richelieu coterie, and therefore not altogether satisfactory 
to the valetudinary party. M. Decades could not bring himself 
to unite with the fanatics; and in order to soothe the liberal 
party, which was als# offended, he re-appointed the nine exclu- 
ded peers, and recalled all the exiles, except the regicides, and 
some Bonapartists, among whom was Lefevre Desnou.'ttes. 
Among those recalled was Lavalette, whose providential escape 
had been so indecorously lamented by the lovers of strong go- 
vernment in foreign countries. 

At the opening of the session, the king congratulated the 
Chambers on the propitiousness of the season, and on the faci- 
lity with which the lav/s had been every where executed. Yet, 
although 'Hhe public tranquillity had been no where disturbed, 
there was a certain vague inquietude," he said, pervading the 
public mind, and in order to relieve it, he proposed to modify 
the charter so as to save the public liberties from the dangers of 
licentiousness! Thus it is, that monarchical governments march 
in circles. They set the public mind in agitation by threaten- 
ing the constitution, and then justify the changing the constitu- 
tion by the perturbation of the public mind. The only change, 
however, he distinctly suggested, was the substitution of quin- 
quennial elections of all the Deputies, instead of the annual 
election of one fifth; and as there was clemency in the begin- 
ning of the speech, (the recall of the exiles,) and a promise, in 
the end of it, to place the laws in harmony with the charter, it 
did not excite much alarm. 

To prevent any confusion in the presence of the king, M. 
Gregoire did not appear at the opening of the session. On the 
subsequent day, when the Chamber of Deputies met to verify 
the powers of the new members, and his name was called, a fu- 
rious cry of "no regicide" proceeded from M. Marcellus. As 
the Committee reported that Gregoire was not duly elected, and 
therefore not entitled to a seat, the Liberals wished to avoid 
any inquiry into his past opinions, as it was a direct violation 
of the 11th article of the charter, which thev had all sworn to 



304 

observe. But the rage of the ultra-royalists had been so excited 

by the result of the elections, that they were resolved to venti- 
late it, and therefore Mr. Becquey, the reporter of the Commit- 
tee, in announcing the illegality of M. Gregoire's election, in- 
dulged in some contumelious reflections on the unworthiness of 
liis character The moment he was done, the ultra leaders 
rushed furiously up to the Tribune to vociferate the language of 
passion, and to insist on declaring M Gregoire, indign of a seat 
in the Chamber. It was in vain that the Liberals and moderate 
ministerialists protested against that unconstitutional proceed - 
inji, and called tor the question. The tumult became general — 
the President rang his bell — the uproar increased"— the house 
became violently convulsed — would listen to no member; yet 
cried M. Laine, "I will sooner be massacred than get down;" 
afler which, the President put on his hat and adjourned the 
Chamber for an hour. 

When it assembled again, the President, instead of limiting 
the discussion to the question of the legality of Gregoire's elec- 
tion, suftered it to range over the unconstitutional ground of 
expulsion for revolutionary opinions expressed in '93. All the 
labjrinth of Jesuitical subtilty was run through, and among other 
monstrous sophisms, it was contended that there was a law of 
honour paramount to all oaths — that although a citizen be 
elected a Deputy, it depended on the Chamber to admit him as a 
representative of France; and that the king's right of calling the 
members by secret letters into the Chamber, was intended to 
prevent the admission into it of any one soiled by one of those 
*'grandes indignites dont les lois positives rougissent de parler." 

There is something respectable in misdirected enthusiasm, 
and therefore, in spite of its perniciousness, we admire the 
genuine ultraism of such men as Villele and Chateaubriand* 
Their devotion to their king resembles the chivalrous loyalty of 
the darker ages; it derives its ardour from conviction, and has all 
the raciness of the olden time. But what excuse can be found 
for that racemation of placemen or ministerialists, whose natu- 
ral opinions are nearly in harmony with modern ci\ilization, 
but who pressed forward on this occasion, with their usual ver- 
nility to subvert the independency of the Chamber; who covered 
their obliquity under the paltry subterfuge that the amnesty of 



305 

the charter did not include public functionaries, and that the 
House had an al)solute right to reject anj member the nation 
might please to elect? There is none better, perhaps, than the 
crazy fancy of king Lear, "that scurvy politicians seem to see 
the things they do not." Be this however as it may, the char- 
ter-violators triumphed. The calm and invincible reasoning of 
M. Courvoisier, a very sensible ministerialist, was of no more 
avail than the eloquent harangues of Manuel, Mechin, and 
Constant 

It was painful to everv friend of representative government, 
to hear M. Pasquier claiming for the mere majority of the Cham- 
ber, the ricrht of rejecting a member. It was by this mode of 
purification that the Convention secured unanimity; first, by the 
proscription of twenly-two members, then of sixty-three, and 
afterwards by such occasional eliminations as were necessary to 
keep the guillotine in motion, or to fill an unoccupied birth in a 
prison ship destined to empty her cargo of exiles upon the de- 
serts of Sinnamary The Lesrislature of '98 practised the same 
folly, and were finally expelled, en masse, by Bonaparte. It 
was justly said by Mr. Burke,* that "the House of Commons 
can never be a control on the other parts of government, unless 
they are controled themselves by their constituents; and unless 
these constituents possess some right in the choice of that House 
which it is not in the power of that House to take away. The 
power of arbitrary incapacitation, utterly perverts every other 
power of the House of Commons." 

The angry passions which were excited by the factious pro- 
ceedings of the Chamber in the case of Gregoire, was a signal 
for the gazettes to disinhume the past votes and opinions of his 
most virulent arraigners; and the scandal to which such inquiries 
gave rise, was brought forward as an excuse to justify the aboli- 
tion of the liberty of the press. The dexterous verticity of 
many high politicians was most sarcastically derided. Even 
M. Laine was asserted to have been an officer of the regicide 
Directory in '95; an associate of a great regicide functionaiy in 
18G9, and of Fouche in 1815; whilst the President, Mr. Ravez, 
was alleged to have delivered the following address to the regi- 
cide prince Cambaceres. ''Your life, my lord, has been a career 
* Vol. 2d, p. 303.— London edition, 1815. 



306 

of public and private virtue, wliich entitles you to the gratitude 
of your country; and it is sweet to me, in thus addressing you, 
to feel my private sentiments in unison with my public duty." 

Perhaps you may be clisposed to a'^k, w^hether the disorderly 
scene I have just described i-s not an evidence of tlie unfitness 
of this people for representative government? To this I should 
reply, that it goes as far to establish this conclusion, as an ini- 
quitous verdict of a packed jury in England would, to prove the 
inaptitude of the British nation for the trial by jury. The pre- 
sent Chamber of Deputies, although the fairest representation 
France has yet had, is no more, in its entierty, an actual repre- 
sentation of HiXQ French nation, than iht- majority of such a jury 
would be of the British people. Men, who have been hoisted 
into the Chamber by the obliquities of governmental intrigue, 
in cc^Jseqiience of their reverence for the divine right of kings; 
who have not talent to acquire any distinction thf're, and who 
rejoice in discrediting every attribute which distinguishes the 
Ch'-iiiber from the old registering Parliament of Paris, are natu- 
rally prone to silence argui?ieT?t by clamour, and to excite scan- 
dalous tumults, in order to bring the assembly into contempt. 

Some weeks passed away after the meeting of the Chambers, 
before the new ministry could organize any plan of internal 
policy, in support of which, they could safely calculate on se- 
curing a majority of the tv/o Houses. Among other seducing 
rumours, an idea v/as circulated, that as soon as the government 
had effected the changes it desired, it would enrich the Peers by 
an additional donation of one hundred millions of francs. All 
the allurements of ofUce, likewise, were held up to charm them, 
as well as the Deputies, into concurrence: and yet it was with 
the utmost diHiculty that a liberticide majority could be secured. 
The difficulty which the government encountered on this occa- 
sion, (although it carefully concealed the ultimity of its perni- 
eious schemes,) was highly honourable to the French character, 
and in itself, a refutation of the slanders with which the friends 
of "strong government'"'^ revile this noble nation. 

The public disapprobation of all change which assailed the 
integrity -of the charter, was still more unequivocally displayed. 
Hundreds of petitions in favour of the conservation of the pre- 
sent state of things were sent up to the Chamber, in spite of the 



307 

orders of the ministry and court to all the municipal authorities 
not only to discountenance them, but to declare those who signed 
them the perturbators of the public peace. Nothing could have 
exasperated more bitterly the passions of the fanatics, than the 
dignified moderation of these petitions in hvoixr of the mainten- 
ance of the laws; for it was evident they looked around in vain for 
some disturbance to justify their proceedings. Neither the depu- 
ration of the chamber howe^-er ., by the expulsion of Gregoire, nor 
the menaced violation of the clarcer, had been able to excite any 
disorderly riot; and the want of some pretext is conjectured te 
have produced the most contemptible eiTort to disturb the peace 
of this city, that was ever devised by imbecility or wickedness. I 
allude to the PiqiL0Alfrwho appeared in Paris during the early 
part of last winter, and v»^ho, according to the stories in the ga- 
zettes, were in the habit of wounding women in the streets, with- 
out their being able to discover by whom the wound was inflict- 
ed. Some conjectured that it was done by invisible arrows; others 
by small poignards in canes, and not a few pretended to fancy it 
the legitimate consequence of the freedom of the press! It is 
scarcely possible to believe, that without the connivance of such 
a police as exists in Paris, so many little wounds should have been 
given without the discovery or rpther punishment of the perpe- 
trators. 

As the power of proposing laws is vested in the king alone, the 
chambers were kept itlle, whilst the ministers were scheming a 
palatable election law. When the project M^as finally resolved on, 
M. de Serre was appointed by the king, to defend it and to recant 
his vindication of the existing law. The fates took compassion on 
him however, and ill health rendered it necessary for him to in- 
jiale, in the neighbourhood of Nice, the softer air of the Meditera- 
nean. The duty next devolved on M. Decazes of refuting his 
own arguments of the precediug session; but the fates ao;ain inter- 
posed, and enrheumed him so terribly that he lost his voice. 
Meantime an eloquent discourse from general Foy, on the merits 
of the legion of honor, and the neglect into which it had fallen, 
since the royal ordinance of 1815 had arbitrarily reduced its 
members to half pay, was hailed by the public with rapture and 
applause. Sversts of this nature only served to fret the temper of 
M. Decazes, until at last in a moment of intense irritation he 



308 

declared , that he neither wanted nor desired the support of the libe- 
rals. This unparliamentary ejaculation being made too, at the time 
he was laying aside the petitions of the public, by a majority of 
only four or live, and when the representation of four liberal de- 
partments was purposely kept incomplete, led to a general con- 
clusion, that he was hereafter resolved to relj more on the favour 
of the "wind than the strength of his oar." 

As there were but two real parties in France, the liberals and 
the aristocrats, it required more than human ingenuity to devise 
a law which should have the semblance of justice, and yet give to 
the neutrals the choice of deputies. Hence a variety of schemes 
more or less replete with Machiavelian ambiguity, were succes- 
sively embraced and abandoned by the cabinet. This wavering 
and incertitude probably arose from a perception by M . Decazes^ 
of the extreme reluctance, with which the ultras consented to 
support him. They were aware that by a little hypocrisy they 
would get the game into their own hands, but it went so much 
against the grain of their pride and vanity to pander a ^'parvenu^^^ 
that they did it with an ill grace, which did not deceive him. It 
was understood, that in consequence of this discovery, he began 
early in February to negociate a reconciliation with the liberals, 
and had actually compromised with them; so that with a few 
changes for the worse, and a few for the better, things would 
have remained nearly as they were. The constitutional party, 
which had formerly consisted of two divisions (the circle of La- 
fitte which v/ished the constitution with the monarchy, and the 
circle of Terneaux which wished the monarchy with the constitu- 
tion,) had been recently united by the common danger, and their 
concert rendered it more important to conciliate them. The l4tK 
of February was the day finally selected for the development of 
the long expected law, and it is believed that by mutual conces- 
sions on the part of the liberals and the ministry, its obnoxious 
features would have been expunged. But unhappily on the pre- 
ceding night, being the last Sunday of the Carnival, the season of 
mirth and festivity in Catholic countries, a political maniac found 
an opportunity near the opera of assassinating the Due de Berri. 
This prince had not received from nature the powers of a vigo- 
rous understanding, nor from education, those refinements o be- 
kaviour which delight the French; yet he possessed a certain rude 



309 

valour and spirit of gallantry which had conciliated the aFec- 
tions of those who knew him well. Had he died in a natural 
way, his demise would have excited but little regret in the na- 
tion, although he was the only member of the French Bourbons, 
descended from Louis XIV. who promised to give an heir to the 
crown. But the atrocious act which destroyed him, and the 
manly resignation he displayed in his last "hours, created au 
universal emotion of sorrow. Indeed, there is no crime the 
French detest more than assassination; which roav be inferred- 
I think, from the fact, that during the last five years the num- 
ber of suicides in Paris have nearly equalled one a day; and yet 
although they proceeded in a great degree from loss of employ- 
ment occasioned by the restoration, not one of those unfortu- 
nate beings (before Louvel) attempted the life of a Bourbon. 

The crime of Louvel was an immense calamity to France; for 
although it became perfectly evident that he had no accompli- 
ces, the ultras availed themselves of it to eStct a change in the 
policy of the government, the deleterious consequences of 
which on the progress of liberty in the south of Europe, it is 
yet impossible to measure. The members of the royal family 
had deprecated from the beginning the liberal policy of the 
king, and they now threw theuiselves, in a paroxysm of grief, at 
his feet to implore permission to quit the kingdom, if he was re- 
solved to persevere in his system. The fanatics united with 
them in attributing this assassination to the dififusion of liberal 
doctrines in politics; and when the Cliambers met, M. Clausal 
tie Coussergues in a violent rage denounced M. Decazes as an 
accomplice of Louvel, because that minister had exerted himself 
on several occasions to preserve the liberties of France. This 
absurd and factious accusation disgusted every rational mind, 
and was considered extravagant by his own party, wlio dread- 
ed a coalition of the ministry with the liberals, and who tl;{^re- 
fore manoeuvred with masterly adroitness to prevent it. They 
pretended that they would be satinfied to let the king retaii; his 
favourite, provided the minister would renounce his political 
heresies; and M. Decazes was so shallow a temporizer, that 
they caught him in the snare. The destinies of France hung 
for a moment on his decision. Unhappily he consented to aa 
immediate abandonment of his scheme of policy, without ever 

40 



310 

reflecting, that in relinquishing it, he would consummate the 
triumph of his enemies, by the seeming acknowledgement of his 
error. This was by no means his intention; yet he sent M, 
Pasquier down to the Deputies, to propose an abolition for a 
time, of personal liberty, and went up himself to the Peers, to 
propose the annihilation of the liberty of the press! The libe- 
rals heard these propositions with astonishment and indignation; 
but the ultras received them with ecstacy, for it put him in their 
power. They encouraged him therefore, to make a desperate 
harangue, like Anthony over the bloody robe of Csesar, and 
then waited on the king with all the pomp of devotion and grief; 
they assured his majesty, that their principles, equally with 
their aftection, bound them to an unlimited obedience to the de- 
cisions of his wisdom; but that the dictates of their consciences, 
which they regarded as the inspirations of heaven, interdicted 
their concurrence in any measures good or bad, which proceed- 
ed from M. Decazes, because they considered him the secret 
enemy of the Bourbons, and a revolutionist, hurrying France to 
ruin. This communication fell like a thunderbolt on the mi- 
nister, and is said to have touched the old king's heart with sor- 
row. Without the support of the royalists, there was no chance 
of a majority in either chamber, and therefore M. Decazes, in 
the bitterness of despair, solicited the king to finish the sacri- 
fice, by accepting his resignation. But Louis felt the value of 
his services, and was unwilling that his late excessive zeal to 
please the royal family should be the cause of his ruin. His 
fate was consequently suspended some days, with a view of ef- 
fecting a compromise with the liberals; and the government ga- 
zettes ceased suddenly to teem with diatribes against them. 
But there was no affection or confidence to solder such an union, 
and M. Decazes had placed himself in such an awkward predi- 
cament, that he could not recede with dignity, or hold his sta- 
tion with respectability. He felt this, and pressed the king to 
discharge him. In the mean time it was believed that the body 
guard of the king had formed a plot to seize him, and would 
have carried him off, but for the influence of the Comto^D'Ar- 
tois. At last, however, when it was ascertained that the ultras 
would not relent, nor the liberals consent to a suspension of 
civil liberty, the Moniteur announced, that in consequence of the 



311 

delicate health of M. Decazes, which required a journey to the 
south, the king had consented to accept his resignation of an 
office, which he had been holding for some time, with extreme 
reluctance. Then followed a royal ordinance, appointing him a 
duke, and ambassador to London. 

Thus fell a minister, who possessed the finest opportunity 
that human ambition could desire, of rendering his name great 
and glorious in the annals of his country. To an acute and sa- 
gacious mind he added the adventitious charms of an ele2;ant 
figure, an imposing carriage, and a conversation full of amenity 
and grace. To the activity of youth he united the regularity of 
age; and to great quickness of perception, an unwearied assi- 
duity in his vocation. He was too, at one time, the favourite of 
the nation, as well as of his sovereign, and yet he fell almost 
unlamented. If time should not disclose the fact, that he sacri- 
ficed his popularity to the prejudices of his king; and that his 
temporizing policy and eternal vacillation were occasioned by the 
cautious reluctance with which Louis yielded to ameliorations, 
his reputation with posterity will be that of a shallow states- 
man, who threw away more advantages than nature and acci- 
dent have been pleased to bestow on any one of his country- 
men. 

The last advice of SI. Decazes to the king was disinterested 
and patriotic. Instead of seeking his revenge, by letting the 
furious royalists get into power, which would at that moment 
have thrown France into trouble, he persuaded the king to con- 
fide his government to men of calm and ingenuous loyalty, who 
might appease the wrath of the ultras, and give no shock to 
public opinion. The Due de Richelieu was accordingly placed 
at the head of the administration; but as he declined being more 
than President of the Council, he was obliged to sign no order, 
and was not therefore a responsible minister. The well-known 
rectitude of his principles, however, allayed the jealous inquie- 
tude which the novelty of his situation might have otherwise ex- 
cited; and his historical name gratified in part the anti-plebeiau 
antipathies of the royalists, who were not a little dissatisfied to 
find their triumph, an ovation. M. Simeon, a lawyer of Aix, 
and a man of firm but moderate character, a friend of power 
without tyranny, who had recommended investing Napoleon 



313 

wUli the imperial purple, and was afterwards a minister under 
JeDrne, was appointeu to the interior department; and a son of 
the celebrated Mounier to that of the police. The other minis- 
ters retained their places, and exerted themselves in support of 
the arbitrary laws which were already proposed to the Cham- 
bers. 

The act investing the government with the right of arbitrary 
imprisonment was unconstitutioual, because the charter stipula- 
ted that no one should be deprived of his natural judges — it 
was unjust and tyrannical, because it gave the government the 
ric-ht of terrifying and punishing the innocent — it was inhuman, 
because the suspected individual was denied, (in even a dun- 
geon.) the consolations of friendship, or the solace of conjugal 
aff:^ction— it was barbarous, because it refused counsel to the 
accused, together with any other nourishment" than that which it 
pleased his accusers to give,— and it was impolitic, because it 
displeased the nation, and multiplied informers. 

The act for abolishing: the liberty of the press was iniquitous, 
because it punished all France for the oifence of Louvel, whose 
crime no more justifie-l this, than that of Ravaillac would have 
justifted the abolition of the christian religion. It was impolitic, 
because it shook the foundations of the public confidence in the 
faith of the king; it was tyrannical, because it subjected private 
property (printing establishments,) to the caprice of rhe minis- 
ters; and it was infamous, because it poisoned the iounj^i^fms 
wh?ch were beginning to irrigate the public mind with political 
instructiono 

The supporters of these arbitrary laws contended that the 
new^spapers were perverting the opinions of the French people, 
who had been created, by God, like a]l others, to be governed, 
and not to govern themselves. They forgot the suggestion of 
the Chaocelier d'Aguesseau, that domination is never nearer its 
end than when it attempts to substitute caprice in the place of 
law, and thus reminds mankind ^^qu'ils sont nes libres." Even 
the salutary and powe.riiil objections to those iniquitous laws 
which were urged in the Chamber of Deputies by Gen. Sebas- 
tian!, who had been ambassador at Constantinople, were not 
heeded. *'! have lived," said he, ''in a country in which arbi- 
f4'iiry power prevails in all its native beauty— where no eonstitii* 



8(3 

tlonal shackles check the march of govern^nent—- where no ga* 
zettes exist to pervert opinion, and where justice is prompt and 
expeditious, and yet notwithstanding, I have seen, in less than 
two years, eleven ministers, and what is still more, two sove- 
reigns perish by conspiracy." 

When a nation enjoys a free press, public opinion controls 
the government, asid forces it to be tolerably correct, whether 
it wishes to be so or no^; and when, in turn, a government nei- 
ther leans to the side of negligence nor severity, it has nothino* 
to apprehend from faUe charges. Besides, when the press is 
free, men are more cautious in making false assertions, which 
may be refuted, and which inevitably recoil with opprobrium on 
their authors. But when the press is enslaved, slander eludes 
detection, and morals become corrupt; for what temptation is 
there to be honest, when venality is placed on a footing with 
probity; when the press is not allowed to contradict encomiums 
passed on baseness, nor to vindicate virtue, if vilified bj 
aspersion? A good government stands no more in need of a 
screen to conceal its actions from the scrutiny of public opinion, 
than an honest man does of a mask to hide his features. The 
more light there falls on merit, the brighter it is. Suspicions 
naturally float about in the atmosphere of arbitrary power, and 
like an invisible poison, execute their mission without giving 
any warning of their existence. It is but a few days since Spain 
gave a striking example of the instability of arbitrary power, 
when seemingly the most secure. Over the whole of that deli- 
cious realm the press was mute, and the murmurs of discontent 
were silenced^ — the spirit of liberty seemed extinct, for the pa- 
triots, who had fought to maintain independence and acquire li- 
berty, and recover their king, were either dead, or exiled, or 
toiling at the galleys. The suspension of the sword of absolute 
power over the heads of the Spaniards, was supposed to have 
seduced the aiFections of their hearts, and the axe of the execu- 
tioner was imao:ined to have inspired them with the true spirit 
of '^dignified obedience." On the night of the 6th of March, 
Ferdinand, the model of i^/^rflmonarchs, rocked himself to sleep, 
in the cradle of legitimacy, over the dungeons of the Inrjuisition, 
in which the spirit of liberty was immured; he awoke on the morn- 



314 

ing of tlie 7th, and behold, he was a captive, and a slave. By 
a singular concurrence of circumstances, the news of that as- 
tonishing revolution in Spain reached Paris, and was communi- 
cated to the ministers in the Chamber of Deputies when they 
were counting the votes on one of the arbitrary laws.* 

Even in the Chamber of Peers a very noble opposition was 
made to the Censorship by seventy-four members, among whom 
Lanjuinais, Daru, Broglis, and Rochefaucault Liancourt, and 
many others distinguished for political integrity and talents. 
They only succeeded, however, in striking out an article for the 
immediate suppression of all gazettes. 

A still more vigorous resistence against the relapse into 
tyranny was made in the Chamber of Deputies, and I shall long 
remember v»^ith pleasure the wisdom and eloquence displayed by 
the Liberals on that occasion; and which must continue to be a 
source of pride and satisfaction to the French, as long as they 
are worthy of respect as a nation. Day after day for more than 
a month the tribune resounded with the accents of enlightened 
patriotism and powerful talent. Those, who have formed light 
opinions of the parliamentary capacity of the French from the tu- 
mults that occasionally violate the dignity of the popular chamber, 
have only to read the discourses of the Constitutionalists to be 
convinced that there is no lack of ability or knowledge oa 
the left side, at least, of the house. It was in vain, however, 
that Benjamin Constant reminded the ministry that the Conven- 
tion, the Directory, and Bonaparte, had governed by arbitrary 
laws, and asked ^' where is the Convention? where is the Direc- 
toryf where is Bonaparte?" It was in vain that the invincible 
Lafayette reminded them of the disasters which an untimely re- 
sistance to public opinion had formerly brought on France, and 
showed the unshaken uniformity of his principles by exclaiming, 
*'it^is now three and thirty years since I rose in the Chamber of 
Notables to propose the abolition of the Lettres de Cachet, and I 
rise to day to protest against their re-establishment." It was in 
vain that the leading members of opposition urged the impolicy 
of removing from the government the props of public confidence; 
that Martin de Grey, Manuel, Chauvelin, Dupont de I'Eure, 
Bignon, Mechin, Foy, D'Argenson, Lafitte, Comille Jordan. 

* Etieune. 



31d 

Jobez, Gerardin, &c. called on the ministers not to violate the 
charter, which they considered a treaty of peace between the 
Bourbons and the French. 

Six months ago this superb kingdom enjoyed a prosperous 
tranquillity;-~a calm and progressive amelioration was observa- 
ble in every part of it— the government was conciliating the pub- 
lic aftection—hope entered into every heart, and the spirit of 
rational liberty was in^'^sing new life into every mind. *'Le 
peuple etoit heureux, le roi couvert de gloire." Now, irritation 
and inquietude prevail universally— -the sudden and impetuous 
recoil of the government has jarred France to the point of disso- 
lution— t'-e abyss of revolution has been rashly re-opened and no 
humaii foresight can tell when it shall close again. The charter 
of France is recognized to' be at the mercy of the king and a bare 
majority of the Chambers; the limits of prerogative and privilege 
are confounded, and the public liberties dependent hereafter on 
the generosity of the sovereign and the weight of his purse. 



LETTER XIX. 

Paris ^ Aprils 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

The reverence with which education and habit had formerly 
inspired the French nation for the family of Bourbon, had been 
destroyed by its exile and degradation. When it re -ascended 
the throne by the did of a coalition ot all the rest of Europe 
against France, it found the kingdom inhabited by a race of men, 
who had been so occupied by the splendid events and heroes of 
the new order of things, that they had nearly forgotten even the 
names of the members of the royal family. The restoration 
produced a resurrection of the noblesse, whom the revolution had 
thrown down; of the interests it had destroyed, and the princi- 
ples it had vanquished. These were in direct hostility to the 
existendes^ which had been recently created, and the king's first 
duty was to prevent the fierce collision of those opposite inte- 
rests, by a judicious amalgamation of them. The royal charter 
was the bond of union between the interests of the revolution, 
and the interests of the ancient regime It ought, therefore, to 
have been the point of honour in the government to guard its 
integrity with sacred punctiliousness. To subject it to the ca- 
price of the monarch, and of a factious majority of the Cham- 
bers, was as absurd as the conduct of the child who tears up 
by the roots the young tree he has planted, in order to plant it 
over again, if the king did not think proper to adopt the Spar- 
tan Legislator, who exiled himself to avoid being tempted to 
change his constitution, as his mo'el, it might have been wise 
in him. to have remembered the example of that (I think) Italian 
republic, which required every one who proposed a change of a 
law, to come with a rope around his neck, so that if the propo- 
sal should be rejected, he might be hanged upon the spot. But 

* Ouvres de Constant. 



317 

the horoscope of the royal charter, like each conjunction that 
presided over the birth of each of the ten constitutions of France, 
seems to have boded nothing but fickleness and chano;e; and if 
the transit now taking place should not be fatal to the govern- 
ors, the J will owe their safety to the strong arm of the Holy 
Alliance. 
'^ I vas present in the Chamber of Deputies during the debate 
on the law granting the right of arbitrary imprisonment to the 
government, v/hen the minister of the Interior (a man of good 
sense and character,) produced the letter of a maniac, as a con- 
vincing evidence of the expediency and necessity of adopting 
that measure. I say the letter of a maniac, because the man 
who wrote it had been several years partially confined in the 
town of St. Denis, and had often demanded to be set at liberty 
or sent out of the country. It was a letter of con<jratulation 
addressed to the Mayor of the town, on the death of the Due de 
Berri, expressing also a deep regret that the writer had not had 
the pleasure of killing him, but trusting that providence would 
reserve one of the royal family for his knife. It was heard with 
acclamations of applause by the cote droit, as a proof of the exis- 
tence of an universal conspiracy '^ which was visible no where, 
but which existed every where.*' The persuasively eloquent 
tone of voice, and pathetic solemnity too with which M. Simeon 
read it, not only concealed at the moment its absurdity, but 
produced a great impression on those "whose credulous morality 
is so invaluable a treasure to crafty politicians." 

A short review of the extent of the prero2;atives and influence 
of the crown of France, may enable you to judge how far this 
transiliency of the government, from freedom to tyranny , was jus- 
tified by the danger of popular encroachment. But as the author- • 
ity of some high prerogative writer may be entitled to greater 
weight, than any suggestions of mine, on the relative state of 
royalty and liberty in France, I will transcribe for your perusal, 
the ideas of M. Fievce, the editor of the Conservateur, and one 
of the oracles of Clliaism, on this subject. The royal power, says 
he, is composed, first of a civil list of thirty-four millions of francs, 
and of a revenue of five or six millions more derived from private 
domains — of the employment of a budo;et anu)unthig to a thou- 
sand millions of francs, (near 200 millions of dollars)—- the dis- 

41 



318 

position of an active army of 240,000 men, of an army of reserve 
equally numerous, and of the foreign regiments, which from the 
circumstance of being foreign, belong particularly to the king. 
Secondly, Of the right of making peace and war, and all trea- 
ties — of choosing all ministers, ministers of state, under secreta- 
ries, counsellors of state, directors general, prefects, sub-prefects, 
ana mayors, together with five or six thousand judges — of ap- 
pointing, in iine, twelve or thirteen hundred officers (employes) 
of every description, removable at will, even when not paid by 
him, as mayors, councils of arrondissements and departments, 
officers of the national guards, (militia,) &c. Thirdly, Of the right 
of making nobles and peers, likewise at will; — and of a private 
justice 5 called "justice administrative^^ in virtue of which the 
twelve or thirteen hundred thousand salaried agents of adminis- 
tration, cannot be arraigned before the ordinary tribunals, with- 
out the authority of the administration. Such is the materiel de la 
royaute in France, and in opposition to it, let us now examine the 
much shorter inventory of the materiel de la liberie, 

''Liberty isolated from all institutions, is confined to a chamber 
of two hundred and fifty-eight* deputies, charged to defend the 
interests of a population of near thirty millions of souls. Those 
deputies are elected under the ostensible influence of prefects, 
(agents of royalty) by colleges, of which the king appoints the 
presidents. The question of the right of an elector to vote, is 
submitted to a council of prefecture, appointed by the minister 
of the interior, with a right of appeal to the council of state, 
which is appointed by the king. Such is liberty in France; we 
cannot add to it the liberty of the press, nor of person, since they 
have been packed into the baggage of the police." 

Now what possible danger, let me ask, could that Colossus of 
prerogative be in, from this puny bantling of liberty, among a 
people like the French, tired of commotion, and solicitous of re- 
pose. If what Sully said be true, that it is never from a wish to 
attack ''mais par impatience de souffrir," that a people rise in re- 
bellion, how very contrary to the public interest and opinion 
must have been the march of the French government, when with 
all this enormous patronage it could not even secure a majority 
in the chamber of deputies, or in the electoral colleges. It should 
be remembered likewise, that no man is entitled to a vote, unless 
* At present 430 members. (1821.) 



319 

Ive pay SOOf. in taxes, and be thirty years of age; that there are 
only about one hundred thousand persons paying that amount, 
and that the votes fall far short of that number — that none but 
those who pay a tax of lOOOf. and are forty years of age are eli- 
gible as deputies; that there are only 12,000 estates in France, 
assessed so high, and that many of these are in the hands of or- 
phans, women, or peers of the realm, or persons under forty 
years of age; — that the rich reside mostly in Paris, and that half 
the deputies must have their domicils in the departments — that 
the number of the electors and the eligible likewise, is diminish- 
ing every day from the partition of estates, by the testamentary 
law; by the dimunition of direct taxes, and the increase of duties 
from an increase of foreign trade. Now, if with all these restric- 
tions on the freedom of elections, the government could not se- 
cure a majority at will, is it not an unequivocal proof of the er- 
roneousness of its policy? What will you think then, when you 
hear that the French ministry could not in adopting those tyran- 
nical measures, procure a majority of twenty votes, although they 
kept the representation of four departments purposely incom- 
plete? What will you think of the alleged diratrMion of indepen- 
dence of character and sentiment in France, when you learn 
that one hundred and eleven deputies, (nearly half the cham- 
ber,) had the candour to publish their votes against those laws; 
and that out of near fifty public functionaries in the chamber, 
four (Gerardin, Camille Jordan, Courvoisler, and Royer Coliard,) 
had the integrity to be in the opposition, even although the first 
was instantly expelled from office, as a terror to all the others? 
Can you think that the generous spirit of liberty, which actuated 
them, deserves to be stigmatized (as it has been even in England) 
as the vile spirit of faction? Can you believe that the wealthiest 
men in the kingdom — that D'Argenson, who is the largest proprie- 
tor of land, or Lafitte, who is at the head of the commercial and 
monied interest, or Terneaux, who is the greatest manufacturer 
in France, — can wish the dissolution of the government, and a 
second reign of anarchy? 

The chamber of peers owes its existence to the present govern- 
ment and must stand or fall along with it. What doubt then can 
there be of its attachment to the present dynasty, or what reason 
to believe it infected with Jacobinical principles? Yet after an ani- 



320 

mated debate on the new laws, eighty-five members voted against 
them, and m this opposition were nine of the surviving Marechals 
of France, and almost every man of abilities in the house, not 
even excepting M. Chateaubriand who voted with honest inde- 
pendence ISucha minority, even in the more numerous house of 
lords in England, where great wealth and the hereditary posses- 
sion of power, might be supposed to create greater independence, 
would terrify a minister into a change of measures. For as Mr. 
Burke observes, "the generality of peers far from supporting 
themselves in a state of independent greatness, are but too apt 
to fall mto an oblivion of their proper dignity, and to run head- 
long into an abject servitude," Here in France, where the house 
is young and created by his present majesty, such an opposition 
is the strongest evidence of the public disapprobation of the poli- 
cy )rthe ;^ v)vern?nent. T/rannv never expires suddenly in any 
country where it has lona; prevailed. It dies very hard. It occa- 
sionally makes an effort of hectic vigour and blazes up with new 
life and light like an expiring lamp. — But years are to tyranny in 
nations advancii^g in civilization, what moments are to the dying 
lamp — each succeeding one diminishes the vital aliment which 
feeds it, so that every eifort at restoration, becomes v/eaker and 
weaker, until it sinks to rise no more. The era is gradually, but 
certainly approaching, when the constitution will be to the go- 
verjiors of a state, what the written law is to its judges; and 
when a minister of France will not venture to tell the deputies as 
one did the other day. '''Qu'il y a quelque chose au dessus d'un 
droit ecrit." 

The revolution has corrected many of the defects of the 
French character, and has left the nation much better prepared 
for just government than it found it. Intelligence and good 
sense are much more generally diffused , and although the pre- 
sent government does much to retard their progress, it cannot 
arrest it. Without pretending therefore, to put on the mantle 
of Elijah, which conveyed the gift of prophecy, I think I may 
venture to suggest, that in spite of the present alarming condi- 
tion of liberty in this country, the true euthanasia of the French 
constitution is a monarchical republic; and that not many years 
will elapse, (unless the deleterious shade of the Holy Alliance 
should wither and blast the prosperity of France,) before the 



321 

crown will be stripped of at least its unjust prerogatives. That 
the limitations necessary to render monarchy consistent with 
public liberty ''must be great and many," and that "public 
liberty is more exposed under limited monarchies than under 
any other form of mixed government," as was observed by Bo- 
lingbroke, I am willing to admit; but vanity and the love of pa- 
rade, may long keep up the forms of monarchy in France, after 
its powers and spirit are extinct. I know that this suggestion, 
that the progress of civilization is a slow poison to monarchy, 
is an oftensive one to courtiers, because it is true; but I trust it 
is quite otherwise to you, a man of reason, "looking before and 
after." When interest prompts, they will alter their minds; 
for they can, when occasion requires, change the livery of their 
opinions, as the adder does his skin; and like him appear as 
smootli and glossy to-day, as if he had not worn another yes- 
terday. 

You may perhaps be disposed to regard my prediction of the 
progress of freedom in France, in spite of the present unfa- 
vourable auspices, as somewhat presumptuous. But if you will 
observe attentively the ili -omened prospects that have occasion- 
ally lowered on Great Britain since her rebellion; if you will 
look into her political authors, and mark the fatal auguries with 
which they abound, in consequence of a presumed decay of 
morals, religion, and the love of liberty, in the age in which 
the', flourished; if you will compare those false assumptions with 
her actual progress in civilization and liberty; in wealth, power, 
and glory; you will perceive how unfounded were all those bo- 
ding dreams of her degeneracy and downfall. Even foreign 
philosophers fell into the drift of this canting absurdity. It is 
not quite a century since Montesquieu in his Notes on England, 
observed, "The English are no longer worthy of their liberty, 
for they sell it to the king; and if he were to give it back to 
them, they would sell it to him again." "Money only is es- 
teemed among them; corruption gains ground every day; so 
that honour and virtue are little thought 6f; thirty years ago 
there were no thieves in London, but now they abound. Les 
choses ne peuvent pas rester long-temps comme cela." That 
these were the lighter opinions of their author is true; but when 
men of his gravity rail at the degeneracy of the tinfies, and fail 



3^ 

ioto such gloomy prognostics of the future, is there not strong 
reason to believe that the declarations, which puny libellers are 
now so industriously circulating of the decline of the spirit of 
liberty and morality in France, will prove still more unfounded? 
From the examples of the free states of antiquity, in which 
learning and opulence were necessarily confined to one class of 
people, and in Vvhich loss of liberty followed the loss of virtue 
in that small class, Mr. Hume was led to conclude, that the 
crown in England would in time swallow up the privileges of the 
people, and that despotism was the true euthanasia of the 
British constitution. He did not reflect that the march of civi- 
lization in England might keep pace with the march of that in- 
fluence, and that the consequent increase of the weight of public 
opinion might counteract the increase of corruption incident to 
monarchy. In fact, the art of printing, and the trial by jury, 
by enabling a government to enlighten the great body of its citi- 
zens, has changed the destiny of nations. To judge therefore, by 
analogy, of the destiny of modern by the fate of ancient nations, 
or to infer the mutability of those from the accidental instabi- 
lity of these, leads to conclusions infinitely erroneous. Because 
a republican government, for example, might not suit at the 
same time the enlightened patricians of Rome, and the illiterate 
barbarians of Gaul and Pannonia, we are not justified in con- 
cluding that tills form of government is incapable of prevailing 
over such an extent of territory. Nor have we a right to infer, 
that because the Roman republic degenerated into a despotism, 
when the patricians became luxurious and corrupt, that luxury 
and corruption among the nobles of a limited monarchy in mo- 
dern times would produce the same effect; for, as I have already 
suggested, the. diffusion of knowledge and wealth has created 
a self-renovating power in modern nations, which was not pos- 
sessed by the ancients. 

That luxury does not enervate the character, nor destroy the 
prosperity of modern nations, is clearly proved by the case of 
England, where its most splendid refinements have neither di- 
minished the intellectual vigour, nor martial spirit of the people. 
Indeed, I do not think it possible for any judicious man to exa- 
mine attentively the British character at each remarkable crisis 
of affairs for the last three hundred years, without condng to the 



3S3 

conclusion that it is superior at present to what it ever was. 
As far as I can judge from the lights which history, memoirs, 
and political writings aftbrd, I should say there never was an 
era in the history of Great Britain, when the principles of liber- 
ty were so well understood, or so generally prevalent, or so 
ilrmly planted in the hearts of the public, as the present. The 
disorders of the French revolution may have thrown a temporary 
cloud over those principles, and created an inordinate admira- 
tion of royalty; the blaze of glory which environed the crown at 
the termination of the l&te war, may have drawn off the public 
attention from them; political dandies or Ardelions who lounge 
about the court, may deride theo; the king himself may be in- 
clined to absolute power^ and fancy himself legitimate, from being 
the fifth in descent; and the friends of strong government may 
rejoice in the increase of prercgative; but let them beware how 
they awake the nation, by urging the government to encroach 
on its rights, or to refuse those concessions which circumstances 
require. Should they ever, by such means, stir up the storm of 
civil commotion in England, I am very much mistaken if thej 
do not find, from the long swelling wave of the multitude, that 
they have agitated a much wider and a much deeper sea than 
they had imagined. Many of them lull their apprehensions to 
sleep by the music of Mr. Hume's epicedium on liberty; but if 
a literary idler n ay venture on a bold conjecture, I should say, 
they will find that this acute metaphysician was as much led 
astray by antique prejudices in politics, as by new-fangled fan- 
cies in philosophy. I do not mean to say, that the people of 
England are now republicans, but only that the first shocks of 
another revolution would make them so. The whigs think that 
a thoiough reform of the government would strengthen the pre- 
sent constitution; and they contend, that as the dispositions of 
the public are monarchical, no danger could result from it. 
The tories can scarcely doubt, that such a reform would pro- 
mote the prosperity of Great Britain, and they are not inclinecl 
to deny that the nation are attached to monarchy; but they feel 
that there is no security for tise continuance of this attachment; 
and that by drawing aside the screen from a more alluring pros- 
pect, the eyes of men might be naturally attracted away from 
the admiration of the old. But to return from this digression. 



324 

The Richelieu ministry do not go all lengths with the Ultra 
Royalists, but since the late coalitions, have become essentially 
the same in principle. To prevent, therefore, the French peo- 
ple from hearing the voices of the frank and liberal deputies, 
they supported a motion of Poyfere de Cere to exclirJe all 
strangers, except the Editor of the Moniteur, from the enclosure 
of the Chamber of Deputies, i he stenographers of all the other 
journals were accordingly expelled, and the cords of the censor- 
ship thus drawn tighter, to strangle the vitality of thought. . 

The Liberal party proposed a variety of amendments to the 
obnoxious laws, for the purpose of softening their severity; but 
tlie trained band of ministerial voters was invincible. It was 
moved that the ministers should make known to the chambers 
the names of such arrested persons as they did not mean to have 
tried — that they should not have the right of confining a suspect- 
ed person in a solitary dungeon-— that a member of his family 
might be permitted to share his confinement— that a clergyman 
should be admitted to him to administer the consolations of re- 
ligion, and that a certain sum should be appropriated to his sup- 
port; but all these propositions were rejected by a small ma- 
jority. In consequence of their failure many of the Liberals 
entered into a subscription for the relief of the families of such 
persons as mij^ht be confined on a suspicion of being suspicious. 
^'Frevenu dhm soupcon.^^ This association was reprobated by 
the government as illegal, and a prosecution ordered against 
many of its distinguished members. Among them was M. La- 
fitte, the rich banker, and the President of the Bank of France, 
who had never taken from this institution his salary of a hun- 
dred thousand francs, but who was immediately removed from 
his office by the king. 

The chambers have been entirely occupied since the fall of 
Decazes in discussing the arbitrary laws, and have not, there- 
fore, taken up the law of elections. The national aversion, 
however, is so strong, from the projet published in February, 
that it is to be withdrawn, and a new scheme of securing the 
choice of deputies proposed.* Thus has all France been unne- 

* The new law of elections was adopted in June, after this letter was written. 
It added to the Chamber one hun;irtd and seventy-two niembers, to be chosen 
by the fourth part of the electors, who pay the highest taxes, in each department. 



325 

cessarily agitated for some months, by the proposed law for de- 
stroying the elective franchise, which is now to be new modelled. 
At the opening of the session the king promised new q-uorantees 
to liberty, and instead of granting them, has already nearly ac- 
complished the abolition of those which previously existed. Yet 
according to the Knglish papers the French are a whimsical, fac- 
tious set of Jacobins for complaining! 

If you were to inquire of me whether I do not think this ini- 
quitous assumption of power will drive the French {un peiiple 
volnire^ as you consider them) to rebellion, I should answer, 
that I doubt whether it will. The evils which impel a nation 
unaccustomed to liberty, to insurrection, must be pressing and 
imminent. Men accustomed to arbitrary government must feel 
before they move. No severity will be exercised by the present 
ministers, who only mean to make those laws instruments of 
terror. You are not to infer, however, that nine tenths of the 
nation are not offended with those laws because they submit to 
them. They deplore the evil, but they have been so cruelly mis- 
led in their efforts to acquire liberty, that many of them look on 
it as a mere Utopia, as the philosopher's stone in politics; whilst 
Others have been so cozened and duped by political hypo- 
crites as to doubt the existence of political probity. These 
circumstances combined with the omnipresence of the police, 
and the dread of the allies, may impose tranquillity on fhe na- 
tion, although they hear the clank of their chains and would 
willingly break them. 

The French people have behaved themselves with great propri- 
ety and decorum, and therefore the injustice of smothering truth 
and letting falsehood loose to scourge them is the more flagrant. 
Temptation is now held out to every mean spirited scoundrel to 
become an informer, without the danger of being confronted with 
the man he accuses; the bonds of social co.ifidence are again dis- 
solved; the shield which protected integrity broketi to pieces; and 
the government divorced from the nation. Unhappily too for 
mankind all the avenues leading to the ears of foreign potentates 
are guarded by the centinels of despotism, who distort and mis- 

The two hundred aod tifty-eight members ure elected b\ the old electors, not by 
departmental colleges as formeiiv, but by colleges of arrotidissement, eiich one 
eleciing- a nieniber. Bv tliese changes the indepeudence of the electors is jfreatly 
diminished; and the richest foarth oftheia are doubly represented. 

42 



326 

represent the views of their liberal antagonists. There is a sort 
of political legerdemain practised by the ministers of Europe, 
for the purposes of shuffling nations out of their rights, under the 
semblance of necessity; but their manoeuvres have been so awk- 
wardly performed in France, as to occasion a general disgust. 
Six months ago, Mapoleon at the head of 20,000 men could not 
have reached Paris from any frontier of France, but if he were to 
land to-morrow with 200, he would arrive at the Tuileries sooner 
than he did from Frejus. There wants nothing but a torch to set 
all France on fire; but if she is wise she will remain quiet yet 
awhile. Things are not yet ripe in Europe for a general insurrec- 
tionary movement, and premature efforts are infinitely pernicious 
to the best of causes. The spirit of disaffection pervades the states 
of the Holy Alliance, sufficiently to alarm, but not to deter the 
coalition of despots from any unjust purpose. It serves to whet 
their instinctive hatred of liberty, and would make them rejoice 
in having an excuse for pouring their mercenary legions again 
into this superb country. They recoil with horror from all inter- 
ference of the people in government. They already stigmatize as 
rebels the insurgent patriots of Spain, and sneer at her new min- 
isters as galley slaves, because the most iniquitous and ungrate- 
ful of all governments, condemned them to honourable disgrace. 
The insular situation of Spain, may possibly secure her from the 
assaults of their hostility, but with what an elation of vengeance 
would they precipitate themselves ^on insurgent France. The 
young men of this country, are full of the sanguine intrepidity 
and adventurous confidence of youth, but if they are wise they 
will wait till time shall have thrown some of the cobwebs of obli- 
vion over the late disasters of France, and until the neighbouring 
despots get into trouble at home. 

The ministry are already alarmed at the national discontent; 
and are collecting troops in the vicinity of Paris to overawe the 
people. No regiments are suffered to remain long enough in any 
place to acquire local attachments, and yet the gazettes are not 
suffered to mention their change of position. The minister of war 
inquires into the political opinions of every officer and soldier. 
No liberal newspapers are admitted into the garrisons, and all 
officers who subscribe to such are sent on half pay. Thirteen lieut. 
generals, (among whom are Gerard, and Foy,) all covered with 



3S7 

wounds and glory, are removed from command; all officers ob 
half pay are surrounded by spies; and even the students of law 
and medicine are under severe surveillance. 

In explaining to you the principles which actuate the political 
parties in France, I cannot pass over in silence, the facts reveal- 
ed in a petition of M. Madier de Montjau, of Nlsmes, to the 
chamber of deputies. The petition first established by proof, the 
existence of a cabal of persons in Paris, styling themselves true 
roj^alists, whose object it was to induce the king to abjure clemeH- 
cy, and to rule with the sword, and who corresponded with se- 
cret committees in the provinces, organized expressly to defeat 
the salutary operation of every liberal measure of the government, 
and to "annihilate liberal doctrines." It pointed out the inse- 
curity of person and property in the south of France, arising 
from the factious spirit engendered by this cabal-— how it had led 
not only to the assassination of Brune, but of the king's officers 
Lagarde and Ramel; the murder of fifteen or twenty Protestant 
electors at Nismes, on the day of election— the shooting of seve- 
ral prisoners at Uzes — the burning of the chateau of Vaqueiral- 
les — the flagellation of respectable women; the burning of M. 
Ladet alive, and the slaughter of near a hundred persons in a day 
at Nismes. It concluded by demanding the trial of the perpetra* 
tors of these notorious crimes; the prevention of the introduction 
of inflammatory circulars into the provinces, from the ultra com- 
mittee in Paris; and asked of the government to station a body 
of troops at Nismes for the preservation of the peace. 

The petitioner appealed to the keeper of the seals, to confirm 
the truth of these allegations, and there was no contradiction of 
them in the chamber. Yet the majority refused the public read- 
ing of the petition, and all interference! Such facts alone, might 
suffice to give an idea of the temper and principles of the sup- 
porters of the brutalizing doctrine of legitimacy. 

Le ravage des champs, le pillage des villes, 
Et les proscriptions et les guerrcs civ iles, 
Sont les degres sanglants dont ce parti fait choi.v, 
Pour soutenir le trone, et pour donner des loix. 



LETTER XX. 

Paris, April, 1820= 
Mt Dear Sir, 

From the tenor of my animadversions on the genius and cha- 
racter of the two parties in France, you have probably concluded 
that the consequences of their systems are, in my opinion, as 
opposite as the extremes of good and evil. The principles oi 
those who desire the establishiaent of a free and liberal govern- 
ment tend, I religiously believe, as directly to exalt the dignity 
of human nature, as the doctrines of their adversaries do to 
destroy human happiness, by preventing the development of 
the moral and intellectual faculties of our nature. But you are 
not to imagine, that because the ultra -royahsts wish to perpe- 
tuate, under the name of legitimacy, the systems of servitude 
which were created by usurpation or conquest, and have been 
entailed on nations by ignorance, that they are radically male- 
volent and vicious at heart. JSlen may honestly pursue error; 
for self-interest is a great deluder of judgment, and habit is apt 
to reconcile the human mind to any excess of injustice. Those 
who have been impressed with prejudices in early youth, find 
it very difficult to discard them, even when their understandings 
have arrived at maturity; and hence, in every nation, men live 
after the fashion of their fathers. The ultra-royalists of France 
are, in a social point of view, a most amiable and delio;htful 
people; but they have been particularly and cruelly injured by 
the national dereliction from the old established principles of 
government, and it is scarcely surprising that they should ho- 
nestly believe that the system, which was best for them, was 
best for every body. 

I have not yet attempted to give you a distinct conception of 
the principles and objects of the court party in France, and as I 
mean to devote this letter to the curious infelicity of reasoning, 



329 

by which they arrive at their conclusion, I will prefix to it a 
summary of their principles. You cannot doubt the uiiiform 
kindliness of Madame de Stael's heart, nor the general tendency 
of her writings to soothe and abate the fever of prejudice; and 
therefore, her impression of the wishes of the ultras can scarce- 
ly be an exaggerated one. '•They want," says she, "an abso- 
lute king, and an exclusive religion, with intolerant priests; a 
nobility of the court founded on genealogy; a middle rank now 
and then enfranchised by letters of nobility; a people held in 
ignorance, and witi^out rights; an army, a mere machine; a min- 
istry without responsibility; — no liberty of the press; no juries; 
no civil liberty; but police spies and hired journals." Such 
was her candid opinion of the principles of those political arde- 
llons^ or intermeddlers in the science of government, whose 
errors proceed more, I am persuaded, from the head than the 
heart; and therefore, to point out to you the causes of their de- 
lusion, is in some degree to vindicate their integrity. In exhi- 
biting, however, the singular sophistry by which they attempt 
to justify their creed, I must claim your indulgence for the de- 
sultory irregularity with which I throw together such observa- 
tions as I have heard them let fall in occasional conversations. 

Permanence and stability, say they, are the first requisites 
of good government, since a perplexing insecurity of per- 
son and property was the origin of society. Nature has given 
to man a sagacity commensurate with his wants, and tlierefore 
that form of government, which has been most generally adopted, 
is most consonant to nature. Now, no constitution of govern- 
ment has prevailed so generally, or lasted so long as absolute 
monarchy: and no form has been subject to such violent fluctua- 
tions and vicissitudes as the republican. Experience, therefore, 
points out the former as friendly, and the latter as hostile to the 
true ends of our being; and as reason should be giuded rather 
by the results of experience than the visions of speculation, we 
conclude that every admixture of what is culled liberty in gov- 
ernment, is a diminution of the principle of good by tiie intro- 
duction of evil. The world has hitherto gone on very well; ;ind 
is it not therefore absurd, if not sacrilegious, to suppose, thaf if 
it had been capable of any higher excellence, its creator, would 
have kept it so long in an imperfect state? The first fall of 



330 

man was occasioHed by arrogance and presumption, which caused 
him to overleap the restrictions of nature; and sii'ce his fall, 
he has been perpetually misled by listening to the suggestions 
of reason, in preference to those of authority. His love of no- 
velty has never left him, and hence, in the succession of ages, 
he has made a variety of experiments in government, yet, after 
infinite change and perplexity, has he not invariably returned 
to the primitive system? We consider the ancient rep-ime of 
France as the perfection of this system, because it carried the 
human faculties to the highest state of perfection, and secured 
a happier condition to mankind during fourteen centuries, than 
any other system of polity ever did, during an equal period. 
We therefore desire its immediate restoration, in preference to 
this mongrel government, by which our king expects to cure the 
distemper of the times, and to slide us into our old position;-— 
but under which, we shudder to see "Phonneur en roture et le 
vice ennobli." 

That the monarchical form of government has shown, in its 
development, a principle of improvement which has never ap- 
peared in the republican, is evident from the fact, that all free 
constitutions, from an inaptitude to control man in a high state 
of civilization, have expired in the progress of society, and given 
place to absolute monarchy. They have, in fact, no principle of 
self preservation, and are as changeable as the moon. They place 
man in an artificial condition, and can only be maintained by a 
perpetual watchfulness and effort against the resilient tendencies 
of his nature. Thus each republic 

*'Devient un grand exemple, et laisse k la memoire, 

Des changements du sort une eclatante histoire.' — Corxeille. 

The charm of free government consists in the seductiveness of 
its theory, which dupes the credulity of men by flattering their 
vanity with such ideas as the partition of the sovereignty, and 
the calling the governors of states servants, instead of masters. 
Now we consider these notions ridiculous, "car c'est ne regner 
pas qu' etre deux a regner," and because a ''rose by any other 
name would smell as sweet." A false, shallow, and presump- 
tuous system of philosophy in the last century bedecked the 
theory of free government with every meritricious ornament 
which might allure the imaginations of men, and all the super- 



331 

ficial thinkers in France were thus seduced from their allesiance 
to the good old dictates of experience. Our mad and atrocious 
revolution was the consequence. Because a handful of people 
on the other side of the Atlantic — a migratory nation without 
any fixed habits or settled attachments — without any neighbours 
to interrupt either by intrigue or arms, their eccentric scheme, 
had succeeded in patching up a precarious and temporary co- 
vering to hide the nakedness of their political wants, we vainly 
imagined that we, la grande nation^ les superbes Frangais might 
follow their example. So we resolved to make an experiment 
of your liberty, and we soon experimented away our virtue, our 
respectability, our fortunes, and our lives. We have kept the 
political furnace in blast too these thirty years, forging consti- 
tutions, and no one of them has lasted much longer than it took 
to form it. We were miserable under all of them, and therefore 
all written constitutions must be pernicious and destructive of 
*he ends of human association. In fact, there is nothing good 
in politics but what is old — all that is thought new, has been 
tried an hundred times, and been as often rejected. Old folks 
are too wise to attempt to fly in the air, or to walk in the water^ 
The Siamese king (who, when told by a vapouring Dutchman, 
that the rivers became hard in Holland in the winter season, 
observed, that he had for some time suspected him of lying, and 
was sure of it then,) was so far from being a fit subject of ridi- 
cule, a man of sound discretion, and worthy of being a legiti- 
mate monarch. 

The best government is that which is best administered, and 
how can a free one be well administered when all its agents must 
have a contempt for laws, made by people they know to be no 
wiser than themselves, 

*' Vlais on doit ce respect au pouvoir absolu. 
De n'examiner rien quand un roi la voulu." 

Besides, if free government were intrinsically good it would 
not suit us, because we French are too enlightened to be free. 
In countries where there are but few men capable of governing, 
the people may submit to them from deference to their superi- 
ority. But here in France we have so many capable and wise 
men that no one will consent to see his rival invested with a 
power which he thinks he could exercise better himself. 



332 

"Lorque le peuple est maitre on n'ag;it qu'en tumult© 
La voix de ia raison jamais ne se coiisulte." 

England is one of jour models of fine government, and be- 
cause an unprincipled system of brigandage has enriched her, 
you infer that her mongrel constitution is a good one, although 
her greatest statesman once admitted that if she would be just 
to France, it could not exist twenty years. But even if it were 
good for the control of a rough, seltish, half-civilized, and tu- 
multuous people like tlie English, does it follow that it would 
suit us? Nature has prepared every nation by a peculiar conca- 
tenation of circumstances for a peculiar form of polity, and, 
therefore, your constitution mongers are not a whit more rational 
in wisjiing every nation to adopt the British constitution than the 
mad tailor who wished all his customers to wear coats cut to the 
same measure. Besides, what have the British gained by their 
boasted constitution? Are they not the most discontented^ 
growling, mobocratic people on earth.^ Have they not nearly 
ruined themselves by fighting battles to keep other nations from 
following their own stupid example, in breaking the chain of le- 
gitimacy? Have they not loaded themselves with a weight of 
taxes which causes even all provisions to be adulterated, and de~ 
stroys the comfort of domestic life? Have they not diminished 
the value of property almost to nothing by detestable philanthro- 
pic poor laws, for the support of paupers who do not thank them 
for their folly? Has not England the most sanguinary penal 
code in Europe; and does not her government assure us that the 
bonds of society there are so relaxed, and the temptations to 
crime arising from the necessities of the people, so great, that 
the softening of those statutes would be infinitely dangerous? 
Do not the ministerial reviews inform us of a melancholy dimi- 
nution of the social sympathies there, even between master and 
servant, who are becoming so disunited by mutual independence 
of each other, that those acts of reciprocal kindness, which for- 
merly endeared the connexion have nearly ceased? Bo they 
not tell us that noching but the strong hand of power keeps down 
the mutinous spirit ot radicalism. 

".viiisi ia iiberte ne peui etre utile 

Qu'a lonutr les fui'eurs d'une guerre civile." 

Since a century then has produced all these evils, are we not 



333 

right to hug the chains of legitimacy as the shackles which an 
all-wise Providence designed for us? 

The religious toleration too which prevails in England is not 
only foreign from our national habits, but is ascertained even 
there to be as pernicious as political liberty; for what has it done 
but multiply sects, sow dissention in the nation, and encourage 
the apostles of infidelity in their sacrilegious scheme of breaking 
down the existing order of church and state? Are we not as- 
sured that the English canaille are growing worse every day, 
and that vice and disaffection keep pace with one another;— that 
in spite of the constant employment of the gallows, and the tran- 
sport ships to drain that country of its vicious population, the 
number of crimes is alarmingly augmented, and culprits known 
to commit offences in order to be transported, and then to thank 
the judge for sentencing them to Botany Bay? Are not these 
facts sufficient to convince any man that the boasted constitution 
of England, like the blood of Minotaur, causes serpents to spring 
up in the land it touciies? ^ 

If the English government be really a good one, why is not 
the nation satisfied with it? Why is it eternally clamouring 
after reform? Is not this clamour alone a convincing evidence 
of the viciousness of its nature? a viciousness of which they 
seem as sensible as other nations; for in what instance did they 
ever recommend the adoption of their constitution in other 
countries? Is human nature so radically malevolent, that a 
whole nation can take pleasure in withholding from its neigh- 
bours the knowledge of a secret on which their prosperity and 
happiness depend? Did not the English outlaw and deso- 
late their provinces in America, even with the tomahawk and 
scalping-knife, for declaring that taxation without representa- 
tion was illegal? Are not parents always wiser than their chil- 
dren, and did not England therefore know better what was 
good for America, than America knew what was good for her- 
self? 

We equally defy the enemies of legitimacy to prove the ex- 
cellence of the representative principle in government by the 
practice of England at home, for her constant policy has been 
to struggle against its encroachments. That the delegation of 
legislative power to a representative assembly is not only an 

43 



334 

unnatural arrangement in civil society, but destructive of the true 
ends of government, temporal repose and eternal beatitude, is 
substantially evident from the necessity Great Britain has been 
under of retaining her rotten boroughs, in order to enable the 
crown to purchase a majority, and thus pull the cords behind 
the curtain. Men are pleased in beholding a complicated ma- 
chine, because it flatters the vanity of their nature, and many 
were once duped into the belief that the British constitution was 
the most stupendous monument of human wisdom. But who 
can now doubt its monstrosity, since, in order to remedy its de- 
fects, and regulate social relations under it, more volumes of law 
have been created than a rich advocate can buy, much less hope 
to peruse? Croyez moi, monsieur, "le pire des etats, c'est 
I'etat populaire." 

No matter what may be the follies or corruption of those who 
have governed England, political cecity is not to be charged 
against them. When they incorporated Scotland into England, 
for example, although they were obliged to sacrifice something 
to public prejudice, they were aware of the danger of entrust- 
ing power to the canaille^ and therefore restricted the right of 
suffrage so much, that scarce three thousand persons out of two 
or three millions enjoy it.. Some parts of England elect many 
members to parliament, and others none at all; yet, in the lan- 
guao'i of Mr. Burke, '^what advantage do you find, that the 
places that abound in representation possess over the others, in 
security for freedom, and security for justice. Are the local 
interests of Cornwall and Wiltshire, for instance, their roads, 
canals, prisons, police, better than those of Yorkshire and Staf- 
fordshire? Is Wiltshire the pampered favourite, whilst York- 
shire, like the child of the bondwoman, is turned out to the de- 
sert? On the contrary, is not the latter nursed with a steadier 
hand, with less bias against the general good from local inte- 
rests, passions, prejudices and cabals?" Such, at all events, were 
the deliberate conclusions of the great oracle of British statists, 
whose testimony weighs more heavily in our favour, because he 
set out with a fondness for liberty, but grew more and more ena- 
moured, every day that he lived, with the spectacle of dignified 
obedience to authority which France exhibited under her legiti- 
mate monarchs. Ah! with what melancholy pleasure do we 



335 

look back to those good old times of tranquillity and content- 
ment, when a proper sense of submission pervaded the minds of 
men, and when subjects obeyed their kings, as children obeyed 
their fathers! 

*'Quand les meilleurs soklats, et les chefs les plus braves, 
Mettoient toute leur gloire k devenii- esclaves. " 

Is it not painful to reflect on the degeneracy of modern 
times; on the unnatural excitement of low ambition, which 
instigates every ben;gar to tread on the heels of every gentle- 
man, and every gentleman to pant to be a king? Even those 
nations which were formerly so proud of submission that they 
could not be driven into revolt, have been so changed bv perni- 
cious theories of the rights of man, that their monarch s cannot 
dare to tighten the reins of government, so as to make them 
feel ^he curb, without causing, as in Spain a few days since, a 
furious rebellion. 

Even the Germans, (a people of steady habits, whose intellec- 
tual composure and perseverance in the customs of their ances- 
tors, promised to exclude the political plague longer from them than 
any other people in Europe,) have gone on dreaming and specu- 
lating until they have introduced a dry rot into their old fabric of 
government. Frederick the great, in a fit of philosophical delirium, 
forgetting that among tiie people, ''tout ce qui pens e^ conspire,^^ 
set the Germans to thinking and discussing moral questions He 
fancied that the national phlegm would prevent speculative ab- 
surdities from ever becoming principles of action. But the inert, 
irresolute and obstinate character of that people, peculiarv fits 
them to be duped by fine theories. The confusion and changes 
consequent on the French revolution, augmented the mass of 
pestilent matter, which had been long accumulating there in the 
societies of Free Masons, llluminati and Tugendbund. Hence in 
the minor states along the Rhine, the public have triumphed over 
their governments — representative assemblies are established— 
the contagion spreads every day'— and our good old principles 
have no longer any security but in the protection of the Holy 
Alliance. Even our king admits that the dangers of innovation 
are closely connected with the advantages of amelioration; and 
for our parts, we conceive that it is better to abstain from a 
chance of the latter, than run the risk of the former. The Holy 



336 

Alliance sprung out of the conviction of the necessity of restrain- 
ing the vicious principle of reform; and has no other object than 
the protection of les;itimate governments against popular usur- 
pation. Bj legitimate governments, we understand those, which 
(having long existed,) are therefore conformable to the order of 
nature, in contradistinction to those which have arisen out of 
popular insurrection. Political sophists have imagined that abso- 
lute monarchy, like the bad forms of government, originated in the 
consent of the people, and was consequently bottomed on a so- 
cial contract, or compromise between the governors and the go- 
verned. But this is a false imagination, invented to father their 
theories and undermine the true order of things. The first kings 
were not made by the people. They were created first, and the 
people afterwards, "as in the case of Adam, who was invested with 
absolute dominion over ''every living thing that moveth on the 
earth,"" first in Paradise and afterwards in Eden. But even it 
this power had not been expressly delegated, is it not clear, that 
since God created "man in his own imao-e" it was the intention 
of divine wisdom, that he should copy heaven, in adopting the ab- 
solute form of government? We are commanded by St. Paul "to 
obey the powers that be," and it should be kept in mind that 
bef -re this command was given, the wisdom of providence had 
overthrown and rooted out those plagues of nations, the repub- 
lics of Greece and Rome. The awful depravity of morals to which 
those governments conducted mankind, produced a salutary ef- 
fect on the human mind, and caused the general prevalence of 
legitimate dominion, until the Italian republics started up of a 
sudden to disturb the tranquillity of the world. Their hour of re- 
tribution however soon arrived, and they have been scourged 
from that day to this, by extreme degradation, for their temerity 
and their crimes. 

Next happened, of all the events recorded in history, the most 
disastrous to the cause of legitimacy — the rebellion in England. 
If when that most villanous explosion broke out, and when the 
audacious rebels cut oft' the head of that blessed martyr king 
Charles, all Europe had risen with indignant rage, and vindicated 
the sacred cause of royalty, by the extirpation of the whole race 
of regicides or roundheads, we should have heard no more of their 
atheistical jargon and canting philosophy. The repose of Europe 



337 

would have been secured in that case on solid foundations for 
ever — and that stately and majestic edifice, which the wisdom of 
fourteen centuries had erected in France, would have continued 
to shelter us and our children's children, instead of offering to 
our regards as it now does, a spectacle of ruin, which we can 
never sufficiently lament. The Enolish rebellion, however, was 
suffered to pass with impunity, and the contrition with which that 
nation seem°;d to repent of its crimes, after the restoration, lulled 
Europe to sle^ p. But under the simulation of passive obedience, 
the children of the roundheads cherished the disorganizing prin- 
ciples of liberty, and the revolution was the natural offspring of the 
rebellion. A mild, religious and legitimate monarch like James II. 
was too good for a people become unprincipled by the triumph of 
vice, and therefore his thankless daughter and her ungrateful bus- 
band, the Prince of Orange, usurped his throne. Had Louis XIV, 
then prevailed on all Europe, to unite in the Holy Alliance and cru- 
sade against England, he might have strangled the political Her- 
cules in its infancy — have consolidated the foundations of legiti- 
mate monarchy, and have secured to England herself to-day, a 
degree of happiness equal to that she enjoyed under the parental 
government of her Plantagenets, 'f udors, and Stuarts. But he 
committed the fatal error, of looking with an eye of contemp- 
tous indifference on that transaction, as the crime of a half civi- 
lized community, and never suspected that its impunity might 
cause it to distemper the body politic of Europe. Yet it has actu- 
ally eaten its way like a canker into the heart of nations, and has 
done more to doff the plumes of prerogative than all the Utopian 
schemes of government that ever were written, put together. The 
film has at length, however, fallen from the eyes of monarchs. 
They see with Cfesar in Voltaire that "la liberte n'est plus que 
le droit de se nuire." 

The Holy Alliance promises to perpetuate legitimacy by 
crushing hereafter every effort of political reform. The intro- 
duction of Russia into the system of Europe is what has saved 
us. Her remoteness from the scene of contagion has prevented 
the new doctrines from soiling the purity of her primitive im- 
pressions, although D'Alembert untruly said, she was rotten 
before she was ripe. The immense extent of her territories 
will enable her to spend some hundred thousand lives a year in 



338 

our service; so that if we can keep England in our interests, 
and check the progress of innovation until Bonaparte dies, we 
shall succeed in putting down the constitutional system. A 
death blow might have been given to it when we overthrew the 
usurper, but for the ridiculous vanity of the Emperor Alexander, 
who was pleased with the cheering of the canaille, and whose 
dread of Bonaparte scared him into a temporary liberality. But 
he is recovering his senses. Some contrariety he has recently 
experienced from his new Polish diet, has done him good, and 
he may yet become our Tiberius. If we had not put down 
Bonaparte the second time, the constitutional scale might have 
become as heavy as the^ absolute, and an unlucky balance of 
power might have been preserved in Europe. But now we have 
nothing to do but administer opiates to England, and all is safe; 
for our king thinks, that in twenty years he will have restored 
the ancient regime, if no popular revolution occurs in the neigh- 
bouring countries, which are, however, sadly infected by the 
scum which boiled over out of France during our revolution. 
Spain, Portugal, and Italy are cankered to the core. The lesser 
German states, and Switzerland, and the Pays Bas, are gorged with 
poison. Prussia is fundamentally diseased; Denmark is inocu- 
lated; Sweden is the surviving blot on legitimacy; and we are 
not quite sure that the pestilential miasma has not passed into 
Greece, and even made some invasion of Austria. But Russia- — 
Russia shall orientalize us, and embalm the sacred principles of 
legitimacy. 

No government can be good but that in which the wise govern 
the ignorant. The invention of the art of printing, by f^'^bsing 
knowledge beyond its proper sphere, has destroyed the equili- 
brium of the balance of civil society. Too much light blinds 
weak eyes, and the poet was wise who said, '^si little learning 
is a dangerous thing." It serves only to bewilder the brain, 
and to smother the instinctive lights of nature by the fumes of 
undigested crudities. No man fancies himself so wise as he 
who knows little, and hence positiveness in argument is an 
evidence of error of opinion. That the excessive multiplication 
of books must ruin society is evident, for how can the choice, 
deliberate, and sublime reflections, opinions, and imaginations of 
wien, whom providence has gifted with high powers of genius, 



339 

be fit food for beings who have neither the capacity to under- 
stand, nor the leisure to study them? "^'a quoi bon alors instruire 
la canaille? quelle necessite qu'ils sachent lire?" 

That the invention of printing has been, upon the whole, perni- 
cious to mankind, is admitted by some of your pretended repub- 
licans. What says Fisher Ames on the subject? "The press has left 
the understanding of men just where it found it; but by apply- 
ing an endless stimulus to their imaginations and passions, it 
has rendered their temper and habits infinitely worse. It has 
inspired ignorance with presumption, so that those who cannot 
be governed by reason are no longer to be awed by authority. 
It has rendered the many susceptible of more than womanish 
fickleness of caprice. It will change, but it is difficult to con- 
ceive how, by rendering men indocile and presumptuous, it can 
change societies for the better. While it has impaired the force 
that every just govprnment can employ in self defence, it has 
imparted to its enemies the secret of that wild fire that blazes 
with the most consuming fierceness on attempting to quench it."^' 
What good can possibly result to society from having its con- 
servative bonds loosened by a subtile poison, distilled through 
the distempered minds of philosophers and atheists? What ad- 
vantage can a legitimate government derive from the conversion 
of its bosom into a hot bed of sedition and impiety, to breed up 
a nest of traitors to disturb its repose? Alas! with wliat regret 
must every friend to order look back on those good old times, 
when the due proportion of the world vvas ignorant, and con- 
tented to remain so! <'L'ignorance vaut mieux qu'un savoir 
affecte."t 

One of the most deplorable consequences of the discovery of 
the art of printing, is the facility with which any chimera may 
be imparted to the multitude. The press ran France mad — first 
in pursuit of liberty and equality — then after military glory — 

* Tlie opinions of Mr. Ames on that subject, liuve been since quoted with ap- 
prf)balion, even in England. — Quarterly Rev. Oct. 1820, p. 577, Avhere the reader 
may find also this exclamation, "(Jh tblly, to believe tl»at die press, like the spear 
of Felephus, possesses a virtue, which can heal the wounds it makes! Oh mad- 
ness, to suppose that the press can counteract the evils which the press is produc- 
ing! As well might you expect to restore a maniac to his senses by piUting inta 
his hands a treatise on the right use of reason." 
t Uespreaux. 



340 

and now, after representative monarchy. The two former visions 
have long since vanished, and the last infatuation will follow 
them; for we shall soon feel, that where law-makers are annu- 
ally changing, there will be no security of person or property. 
Now a legitimate prince is uniform in all he does, and having 
no motive to injure or annoy his subjects, is of course beloved 
by tliem. — But a new acquirer of power, on the contrary, is 
obliged to be severe and rapacious, to maintain himself on the 
throne. 

That a public assembly, is more liable to commit crime* 
than a monarch, we friends of legitimacy think demonstrable. 
When an individual acts alone, he is restrained by a sense of 
responsibility and honor from doing wrong, and hence the ac- 
knowledged fact, that a man has more integrity in his private, 
than in his public capacity as a member of a corporation. When 
he acts with a party, the check to bad actions is so weakened by 
division that it scarcely operates at all, and thus the same man 
who might recoil from injustice, when acting singly, might sup- 
port it when he felt himself encouraged by the sanction of public 
opinion. Hence every public body has two existences, the one, 
private and particular, among its individual members, the other, 
general, from the combination of the majoHty, which naturally 
despises the clamour of the opposition, and which acts as a sin- 
gle individual led on by the allurements of self interest, unre- 
strained by a just sensibility to fame. For this reason the most un- 
principled of all tyrannies is the usurped domination of a public 
assembly; and as it is self-evident that its aggregate voice comes 
at last to be the mere act of an individual, is it not clear, that the 
substituting the government of an assembly for the government 
of one man, is the preference of the rule of a licentious or pro- 
fligate person above that of a man legitimately born to power and 
exercising it under the nicely balanced and powerful control of 
duty and honour.^ The true interest of the nation must be the 
true interest of its king, and when he has all power in his own 
hands, he is incapable of usurpation; but the interest of a parlia- 
ment in a monarchy, may be the interest of an avaricious and des- 
picable cabal of its members, and therefore in direct opposition 
to the public interests. In this case, when the happiness of a 
nation becomes inconsistent with the schemes of the cabal into 



341 

whose hands absolute power tails, we may easily imagine which 
will be sacrificed. 

The true way of testing the correctness of any principle, is to 
give it latitude; and in the National Convention the character of 
the representative principle was fully developed. After that body 
usurped the government it wajjed war against every thing that 
bore the semblance of virtue in France, yet even the conduct of 
that mad assembly was an indirect recognition of the supreme 
beauty of simple monarchy; for when they had done cutting off 
the heads of their adversaries, they set to cutting off one another's 
heads, either from an impatience of reciprocal control, or fromi 
the secret desire of each member, to be the last surviving indivi- 
dual, in whom all power might centre. These rebels and regi- 
cides were too wicked to believe in revelation, but reason told 
them, that the nearer the creations of art approach to the exis- 
tences of nature, the more perfect they must be; and therefore, 
since the government of heaven is the rule of one absolute will, 
they attempted instinctively to copy that sublime prototype. 

Tl\e punishment of all offenders, is absolutely necessary to the 
well being of society. Now no human foresight can provide laws, 
which may not be eluded by dexterity or cunning. From this cir- 
cumstance, criminals under representative governments, must 
often escape with impunity; and therefore the good order of so- 
ciety, is best maintained, by lodging a discretionary power of 
punishment in the hands of a king, who being born above man- 
kind, is not prone to abuse his authority, and who being delegat- 
ed by heaven, must be necessarily wise enough for the discharge 
of his duties. The trial by jury too, is one of the desolating ap- 
pendages of the representative system. This institution which 
owes its origin to a barbarous age is manifestly inconsistent with the 
present enlightened state of France, where some persons are ex- 
tremely wise and virtuous, whilst others are stupid and vicious. 
Can any man suppose for a moment, that twelve men selected by 
lot or caprice, from the body of the community can understand 
law and equity, as well as those who have studied them all their 
lives, and who may be selected as judges by the king, in conse- 
quence of their talents and virtue? Is there *ny man of sense 
who would not sooner submit the decision of his case to the 
judgment of such enlightened men, rather than to the unprinci- 

44 



342 

pled caprice of persons selected indiscriminately from the 
body of the community? Another evil arising from the trial by 
jury, is the habit it creates among men who serve as jurors, of 
judging for themselves, than which nothing can be more fatal to 
absolute government, which only requires of its subjects to be 
obedient. The arguments of the opposite counsel, when the ses- 
sion of a court is public, not only exercise the reason of the ju- 
rors, but of all the auditors; and when men investigate the mer- 
its aad demerits of every question, they acquire the presump- 
tuous habit of forming their own conclusions, and thus destroy 
all uniformity of opinion— 

*'Pour the sweet milk, of concord into hell. 
Uproar the universal peace, confound 
All unity on earth." 

We, the friends of legitimate government, hold your maxim 
of common law, that it is better that an hundred guilty men 
should escape, than that one innocent should be punished, to be 
false. In war it is necessary to sacrifice the lives of a few 
worthless soldiers for the preservation of a nation, although they 
are guilty of no crime; and you must admit that the liberty mon- 
gers have never shewn themselves more scrupulous than other 
governors in the expenditure of human life in the field. In peace 
we hold a similar sacrifice to be sometimes necessary for the con- 
servation of society, and if you take from the king the power of 
condemning his subjects when it becomes necessary, you endan- 
ger the whole order of society for the sake of shielding from pun- 
ishment a few useless individuals who might probably take plea- 
sure in disturbing the public tranquillity. Every one knows too 
how reluctant men are to shed blood when they regard the ac- 
cused as an equal, and how apt sympathy is to overcome expe- 
dient justice on such an occasion. Now this very bias of a jury 
takes out of the hands of government the discretionary power of 
condemnation, and how can any government exercise the first of 
all duties, that of self preservation, without this power? What 
has become of this necessary attribute of royalty since the erec- 
tion of juries in France? Have not these bodies almost invaria- 
bly judged state criminals after the irregular impressions of their 
owa iniquitous caprice, and thus obliged the government to cre- 
ate prevotai courts or tribunals of summary justice. 



343 

It is a common adage, that "birds of a feather flock together." 
Now we know that men are naturally wicked, — that wickedness 
will be tolerant of wickedness, and may we not, therefore, infer 
that when a jury is left to itself it would never punish any cul- 
prit? It very often happens too that in order to deter others 
from crimes, it is necessary for the government to punish per- 
sons against whom there is no positive proof, but only strong 
grounds of suspicion, and this can never be done by a trial by 
jury. V\ e do not assert that men are so corrupt as to enter into 
a conspiracy to acquit all criminals, in order to secure impunity 
to vice, but we say that the emancipation of the tribunals from 
the proper control of government leads to anarchy, and in the 
end produces the same effect as such a conspiracy. The danger 
of investing government with that discretionary power is entire- 
ly imaginary, for such is in Europe la douceur de nos mceurs^ that 
violent tyranny is not to be apprehended. It is a just remark of 
Mr. Hume, in his Essay t)n Civil Liberty, that out of about two 
thousand absolute princes, great and small, who have existed in 
Europe in the last two centuries there has not been one, not even 
Philip II. as bad as Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, or Domitian, who 
"Were four out of twelve of the Roman emperors. In the multi- 
plied relations of civilized society accidental evil is inevitable. 
Good and evil are so mingled together in this life that every 
blessing is associated with pain; and surely the happiness of a 
great nation is cheaply acquired when it is purchased at the ex- 
pense of a few disorganizers. S'il faut que le gouvernement fasse 
tomber dix tetes de perturbateurs par semaine, qu'est ce que 
cela nous fait? au moins le monde est tranquille. In order to 
enable a king to take good care of his subjects his will should be 
the supreme law. 

Car le plus innocent devient soudain coupable, 

Quand aux yeux de son prince il parait condamnable, 

C'est crime qu'envers lul se vouloir excuser; 

Notre sang est son bien, il en peut disposer; 

Et c'est a nous dc croire, alors qu'il en dispose 

Qu'il ne s'en prive point sans une juste cause. — CoaNEittE. 

The greatest errour our king has committed was his granting 
a charter to France, since it was giving a sort of royal sanction 
to the revolution; and he must know that no revolution can be 
just, unless it proceed solely from the monarch. By this charter 



344 

the persons among us the most illustrious by their birth, are re- 
duced to a level with the upstart Jacobin nobility of the revolu- 
tion; the purchasers of the plundered property of the ^'murdered 
monarchy" and church of France are confirmed in their posses- 
sions; the word-warriors, or bavards, are suffered to traduce us 
with impunity; there is no longer any way of preventing men 
from disgracing their families, by lodging them in a bastile; and the 
canaille are granted the right of p; tition, which is an admission 
that they may be badly governed, and an indirect acknowledge- 
ment of that Jacobinical fiction, the sovereignty of the people. 

Our old military system in France was superb. Our army was 
the mirror of honour, discipline, and loyalty. Its battles were 
feats of gallantry— -mere bloody ^ tilts and tournaments which 
raised the reputation of the nation, without doing much harm to 
its enemies. The officers being born to command were free from 
that insolent vanity which rendered our revolutionary invasions 
of foreign countries mere storms of brigandage, the disgrace of 
France and the shame of chivalry. C)ur old soldiers were per- 
fectly satisfied with their condition because they knew that they 
were destined to it, and could not rise beyond a certain sphere; 
but now since all restrictions are removed, and since the king 
is bound to promote about one half of the officers by seniority, 
ambition and envy rankle 'in every heart, and each soldier is 
sidling after "le baton du marechal Oudinot."* 

These innovations, however, cannot last. When we have 
run through all the phases of folly we shall see the wisdom of our 
good old system. The death of the Due de Berri has just open- 
ed the eyi^.s of the king on the errours of his policy. He has 
already begun to modify and curtail the charter, and if he should 
not live long enough to abolish it, his successor will. The fac- 
tious politicians who wish to overturn royalty, pretend to deny 
that the right of rescinding the charter is one of the prerogatives 
of the crown, although they know that absolute power is inhe- 
rent in, and inalienable from it. The king's power existed ante- 
riour to the charter, and is, therefore, superior to it. He may 
abstain if he please, for a time, from the exercise of his rights, 
but he cannot limit them permanently; for as his authority is a 
divine delegation to him during his natural life, he is bound te 
* See Louis XVIIl.'s address to his troops. 



345 

transmit it unimpaired to his successor. To suppose the contra- 
ry is absurd, for if every king had the right of diminishing pre- 
rogative at pleasure what would become of royalty, that emana- 
tion and copy of divine perfection? If a king vi^ere to cut off 
his right hand, his heir would not be born with a similar mutila- 
tion; and in the same way if a king were to lop off any of the 
branches of prerogative, his successor might restore them. 

*'La justice n'est pas une vertu d'elat; 

Rien n'est illegitiine qui peut servir Cesar." 

But, say the Jacobins, the king has sworn to support and pre- 
serve the charter. True, but since his majesty's oath binds him 
to God, and not to the nation, what right can the nation have to 
rebel, if circumstances induce him to break it? Is it not an af- 
fair between him and heaven? Besides, the supreme head of 
the state, in swearing to follow certain rules in the administra- 
tion of his government, cannot be supposed to swear to adhere 
to a system which subsequent events may prove to be pernicious, 
but only to pursue it as long as he knows it will advance the 
public good. To ^swear to follow a certain rule of action, right 
or wrong, (without mental reservation,) would be both impious 
and absurd; and what man, in his right senses, could suppose 
that a legitimate monarch would voluntarily do an act which was 
either sacrilegious or ridiculous? 

*'La timide equite detriiit i'art de regner — 

Quaiid on craiiit d'etre injuste, on a toujours a cralndre 

Et qui vcut tout pouvoir doit oser tout entVeindre." 

It is melancholy to reflect how much the revolution has done 
to unsettle the convictions of men — to root out the good old 
doctrine of obedience from the strong holds which education had 
secured to it, and to plant the pernicious ideas of the rights of 
man in their places. Nor shall we ever succeed in destroying these 
crazy fancies, unless we can place education in the hands of our 
agents, which can only be done under the mantle of religion. 
As the twigs are bent, so the trees grow; and we shall never 
have them bent all one way, if we leave it to private reason to 
direct them; for reason is a fallacious guide, atid leads to infi- 
nite diversities of opinion; whereas, the voice of authority is 
one, and therefore uniform. No two sects in politics or religion, 
who follow the dictates of their understandings, think ^like. 



346 

Now as truth is one, and error manifold, is it not clear, that 
by the lights of our understanding we are led astray, and con- 
sequently, that providence would never have designed us to fol- 
low them. Of what use then is the Lancastrian system of edu- 
cation, but to breed discontent among the poor? Of what use are 
all the innovations and discoveries of modern times, but to break 
the order of nature? — of what use is vaccination itself, but to 
increase population beyond the means of support, and to hand 
over to famine, or the consumption, those who might as well 
have gone off with the small pox? Legitimate monarchy wants 
no learned men, nor artificial inventions to support it. Its 
structure is so plain and consonant to the ends of our being, 
that the simple instincts of nature are amply sufficient for it. 
Let us resign ourselves then, to the guidance of those who are 
wiser than ourselves, and let us pin our faith on the judgments 
of those who are delegated to direct it. Happy in the enjoy- 
ment of the good -things which we may find spread around us, 
let us not indulge an inordinate spirit of rapacity; let us not seek 
to pass beyond the limits which nature has wisely assigned us, 
but remain satisfied that whatever is bad, is just as good as it 
©ught to be. 

Such, my dear sir, are the paralogisms by which absolute 
monarchy may be defended, and some of which I have heard 
used by its admirers. I have run you much further through the 
serpentine obliquities of sophistry than I at first designed to do; 
but what I have said, may serve as a fair specimen of the circu- 
ition of argument, by which the modern doctrine of legitimacy 
is upheld. If you are able to preserve the equanimity of your 
temper, and your respect for mankind when you reflect that 
most of the civilized nations of the earth are governed by such 
maxims, it is more than I have always done in considering the 
diminution they occasion in the mass of human happiness. The 
era may not be very remote, however, when they shall be 
known to have existed only by the learned, and when the re- 
cords of them shall be classed among the most curious evidences 
of human imbecility; for, as Dugald Stewart justly observes, 
*Hhis is remarkable in the history of our prejudices, that as soon 
as the film falls from the intellectual eye, we are apt to lose all 
recollection of our former blindness." 



347 

Communities that have been long subject to the tutelage of 
arbitrary princes, are, from a habit of attributing their ills to 
necessity, and their blessings to Providence, peculiarly slow in 
conceiving the advantages of innovation. But such is the pro- 
gressive march of civilization in Europe, that sounder views begin 
to prevail on the subject of government, and it is no longer possible 
to prevent nations from opening their eyes to the light. It is to be 
hoped, that the adversity of France is finished; and that it is so, I 
have no doubt, unless the government madly plunges her a second 
time into trouble. The French are beginning to comprehend the 
nature of freedom, and to be inured to its language. The Ju- 
gernaut of Jacobinism is no longer mistaken for a tutelary deity; 
but the real y;oddess of liberty begins to smile on this realm and 
to woo the multitude witli a proper becomingness of discourse. 
May the monarch, too, be wise enough to heed her voice, and 
to I eject the counsel of those misjjuided friends, who only seek 
to extend slavery and desolation on earth. 



LETTER XXI. 

Paris ^ ^pril^ 1820. • 
My Dear Sir, 

Having endeavoured in tlie preceding letters to sketch a 
moral and political portrait of the French nation during the last 
three centuries, and to trace more especially the causes of the 
parlous revolutions of their government in the last thirty years, 
I will now call your attention to the consequences of those sys- 
tems as they stand embodied at present in France. Mankind 
have been recently astonished at the resources of this country, 
and at the recuperative energy with which it has risen under the 
pressure of unprecedented calamities. In order, therefore, to 
explain this mystery of power, it is necessary to examine the 
hitherto unobserved progress this nation has been making in civi- 
lization and wealth. The truth is, that the interests of the new 
governments were not always (as they seemed 'to be) in opposi- 
tion to the interests of humanity; and that such was the accu- 
mulation of evils under the old regime, that in spite of the er- 
rors of the unwise and mischievous systems which were substi- 
tuted in lieu of it, a great diminution of them took place. The 
present vigorous prosperity of France is the result of the com- 
parative advantages she has of late enjoyed, and the surprise of 
foreign nations at it, arises from the illiberal prejudice with 
which they have hitherto confined their attention to the inconve- 
niences only of her situation. So abundantly blessed is France 
in the mildness of her climate and the fertility of her soil, in the 
industry of her inhabitants and the philosophical gayety of heart, 
with which they throw oiF the cares of life and escape from the 
corrosions of ennui, that nothing less tlian the stupid restraints 
of an arbitrary regime and an inveterate adhesion to prejudice, 
could have limited to their present imperfect development the 
unfolding of her capacities. 



349 

Some remarks on the present state of France and the defects 
of her municipal regulations may explain the nature of the preju- 
dices to which I allude; and may not, therefore, improperly 
precede an account of the great progress she has made in agri- 
culture, manufactures, and internal commerce. The new terri- 
torial division of the kingdom by breaking down the barriers 
which prevented much intercourse between the provinces; the 
division of the great estates, and the placing them in the hands 
of persons immediately interested in their cultivation; and the 
abolition of the laws of Jurandes and Maitrise, by removing the 
old restraints on the exercise of trades, have tended to advance im- 
mensely the productive industry of the kingdom. The sh. c leSj 
on the contrary, which the monopoly of all action into the 
hands of the government, and the centralization of all power at 
Paris, have fastened on domestic industry and on the enterprize 
of private companies, have considerably retarded the develop- 
ment of the national resources. 

France is at present divided into eighty-six departments, over 
each of which presides a Prefect or Governor, with a General 
Council for the execution of the laws and royal ordinances. 
The Departments are sub-divided into arrondissemens, in each 
of which there is a Sub-Prefect, with a local council. The ar- 
rondissemens are divided into cantons, and these are a2:ain di- 
vided into communes, over each of which presides a Mayor and 
municipal council for carrying the laws and ordinances directly 
into effect. This arrangement is admirably symmetrical in its 
parts, but detestably arbitrary in its operation. Under the sem- 
blance of an independent administration of justice, it subjects 
the interests of every commune in the kingdom to an absolute 
dependence on the orders of the Minister of the Interior. As 
all the municipal officers hold their places at the pleasure of the 
king, or his minister, none dare offend him, and there exists no 
responsibility for malversation in office, so that the salutary con- 
trol of public opinion is in a great degree lost, for the previous 
consent of the government is necessary to the prosecution of its 
agents. Those municipal bodies have no discretionary powers, 
except in the execution of commands. As they can originate, 
and finally determine on no one thing, the inhabitants of a com- 
mune can execute no scheme of improvement without petition- 

45 



350 

ins: throusch a concatenation of authorities, which occasions a 
delay that damps most terribly the ardour of social eaterprize. 
The most trifling local repairs, equally with the most important 
works of general utility, are subject to this deadening para- 
lysis. It is first necessary to apply to the mayor and his council, 
who, if they approve the plan, forward the petition to the sub- 
prefect and his council, where the matter is again discussed, 
and if approved, the scheme is forwarded to the prefect and his 
council, who in due time, after mature deliberation, pass their 
opinion on the proposed change, and forward the application to 
the minister of the interior, who in turn examines its merits, 
and if he finds any error, or unintelligible clause in the petition, 
sends it back, to begin its journey over again; if not, he sub- 
mits it to the king in council, where it is either sanctioned or 
condemned. In either case, it is again sent back through the 
labyrinth of the Minister, the Prefect, the Sub-Prefect, the 
Mayor, &c. to the petitioning individual, who, if he should hap- 
pen to be alive at the end of the two, or three, or four years 
elapsed since his scheme went out on its tour, has permission to 
—put a window in a church' — to throw a bridge over a rivulet— 
or to plant a tree on a promenade! 

It is this complication of difficulties, entangling every attempt 
at local improvement in this country, that deters rich proprie- 
tors and enlightened capitalists from forming themselves into 
companies for the accomplishment of any particular work. The 
labour is so disproportioned to the end, and the procrastination so 
discouraging, that they turn their attention from objects of gene- 
ral utility and local embellishment to the dissipations of society, 
the charms of literature, or the fascinations of the theatre. 
Where would have been the greatness and glory of England to- 
day, if her government had imposed similar restraints on the 
spirit of association among her subjects? Where would have 
been her roads and canals; her noble public charities and her 
hospitals; her banks; her companies of insurance — her com- 
merce — her manufactures, and her agriculture? 

The governmental discouragement of the spirit of private as- 
sociation for purposes of public good, is not less strikingly ma- 
ittifes. in Paris than in the provincial towns. Societies for the 
purpose of protecting individuals against casualties which can 



351 

neither be foreseen nor prevented, are extremely rare. Insur- 
ance on lives, and against the risk of fire, are only just be- 
ginning to establish themselves. The good people of Paris are 
content to drink even at this day the water of the Seine, affer 
it has passed through the city, and become always clouded, and 
sometimes putrid with filth! In this state it is raised by machi- 
nery for the supply of the few large fountains that adorn the 
city. It is not conducted into the houses by pipes, but carried 
through the streets in hogsheads, on hand-carts, and distributed 
to purchasers at a soiy^a bucket, which is four times higher than 
in London. It is ascertained that Paris might be supplied with 
water from the Yuette at an expense of about a million and a 
half of dollars; — and jti, under what is called a paternal gov- 
ernment, whilst vast sums are squandered to celebrate the fete 
of St. Louis, or the marriage of a prince; or to erect water works 
over the heights of Marly to animate the fountains of Versail- 
les, not a sous is appropriated to supply the metropolis with the 
first necessary of life. Bonaparte being fond of great under- 
takings, attempted to conduct the waters of the Beuvronne and 
Ourq to Paris, and expended about four and a half millions of 
dollars without accomplishing it. Since his abdication, this en- 
terprize has been suspended. Twelve millions of dollars are 
yet necessary to complete it. A company of Englishmen offered 
to advance that sum about four years ago, and finish the works > 
but the jealous vanity of this government rejected their propo- 
sals. They offered to leave the fountains of Paris as they now 
stand; to adorn the city with new ones, as well as to conduct the 
water into every house, and asked no otiier reward than the privi- 
lege of selling water at the present price to those who chose to buy 
it, until their capital, and the legal interest on it, should be reim- 
bursed. The principal motive of this company for making the pro- 
posal, was to give employment to the iron works in England, and 
therefore they were to furnish the tubes or pipes of their own ma- 
nufacture. Hence arose a variety of difficulties and jealous suspi- 
cions in the minds of the municipal authorities, for it was ne- 
cessary to consult the prefect of the Seine — the general coun- 
cil of Paris — the director of bridges and highways — the engi- 
neers who were called in — the owners of forges — and lastly, the 
grand supervising corps, the royal council. Such seciu'ity, how 



352 

ever, was given by the company for the fulfilment of their en- 
gagement, as seemingly allayed suspicion, and a contract was 
nearly completed, when the government suddenly imagined they 
would be able, in time, to do the work themselves, and ordered 
the Moniteur to announce, with a triumphant flourish of ''plea- 
sure," that the rumour of the proposed contract with an English 
company was entirely without foundation! The agent attempted 
in vain to contradict this assertion. The censors rejected his 
paragraph, and he consequently remitted back the funds to Eng- 
land. The owners of the forges in France, soon afterwards de- 
clared it would not be in their power to furnish more than one 
fourth of the necessary pipes in four years, and a second En- 
glish company then offered to buy that one fourth of them, and 
to furnish the remainder themselves. They also offered to cut 
the two canals of St. Denis and St. Martin, which would save 
two days in the navigation of the Seine from Rouen to Paris, 
with the vast expense of horses now incurred by the six hunr 
dred boats that annually ascend this river, and also to build 
magnificent commercial magazines on their banks. But the go- 
vernment again refused, and thus deprived the labouring class in 
Paris of employment to the amount of twelve millions of dollars! 
To those whose imaginations are fond of magnifying the advanta- 
ges of despotic power, and the great works it occasionally per- 
forms, it may be worth while to remark, that a single company 
of Englishmen offered to expend on these water works, in four 
years, nearly three times as much as Napoleon laid out on them 
during the fourteen years of his absolute domination! Had the 
vast treasures, which the Emperor squandered away in his 
schemes of mad ambition, been a,ppropriated to the internal 
embellishment of Franca,^ how different would have been his 
fortunes', and how much nobler the halo of glory which would 
have environed his memory in the eyes of posterity! 

The internal communication between the departments of 
France is so defective, that two thirds of their productions are 
supposed to be valueless for the want of canals. There are not 
KDore than twenty canals at present in this country, and seven 
hundred and fifty are supposed necessary for completing the in- 
ternal communication.* Some great shew canals, wlxich have 

* Delaborde, p. 375. 



353 

cost TYiucli, and yield liffle, have tended to discoura§:e similar 
unvlertakinc:s. The industry of many provinces is half paralysed 
and their trade half stagjiiant, in consequence of the expense of 
transportation, arising from the want of short canals, on which 
the labour of one horse would be equal to that of fifty on a road, 
and the labour of one man to that of twenty. The immense im- 
pulse which the industry of England has (lerived from the intro- 
duction of canals within the last forty years, is incalculable; and 
in France the effect might be still greater. The saving in the 
article of fuel alone would amount to several millions of dollars 
annually, for more t'nan forty of the departments are ascertained 
to have coal mines,* which, if worked, would give ten millions 
of acres, now in wood, to cultivation. 

The proudest monument of the reign of Louis XIV. is the 
famous canal of Languedoc, which is only about one hundred 
and eighty miles long; cost somewhat upwards of two millions of 
dollars; and was completed in fifteen years. Now the friends 
of legitimacy, perhaps, can scarcely believe the fact, that this 
gigantic eftbrt of that superb monarch, is surpassed by the single 
state of New-York, which did not contain one third the popula- 
tion of Paris nt the beginning of the French revolution, and 
does not contain twice as many as this capital at present. The 
Union^ Canal, which is now opening from Lake Erie to the Hud- 
son, will be twice as long as that of Languedoc, and, according 
to appearances, will be completed in five years from its com- 
mencement. 

The doing every thing by the hand of government, and allow- 
ing nothing to be done by societies of private individuals, is also 
the cause of the bad condition of the roads'in France. There are 
eight and twenty grand highways, it is true, diverging like the 
radii of a circle from Paris towards the frontiers, and about ninety 
lesser roads, that intersect these in different parts of the king- 
dom. These great roads are sixty feet wide; nearly straight; bor- 
dered by two or four rows of elms, and free from tolls. They are 
paved in the centre to the breadth of two carriages; the sides are 
in the worst imaginable state; and the entire length of all the 
roads in France is estimated at about thirty thousand miles.—- 
The by-roads are made by individuals, and the defect in 

* Delaborde. 



^54 

the municipal organization, which I have already mentioned ^ 
causes them to be so neglected, that in some of the provinces 
ihey are passable only on horseback. Now, in England the 
roads are only twenty-four feet wide; the face of the country is 
intersected by upwards of a thousand of them, measuring alto- 
gether about one hundred thousand miles, and all kept in excel- 
lent order. It is observed by the Abbe Raynal, that if in tra- 
velling through a country, you do not find facile communica- 
tions between cities and towns, nay villages and hamlets, you 
may pronounce the people barbarous; and you can only he de- 
ceived in the degree of their barbarism. If the French admit 
the correctness of this criterion, they must certainly surrender 
all pretensions to being the most civilized people on the globe. 

Prior to the middle of the last century, the roads of England 
were likewise excessively bad, and the public carriages clumsy 
machines, imported principally from France.* Persons are yet 
living who remember the first establishment of post-chaises in 
that kingdom; and the mails were not carried in carriages till 
the year after the close of the American war.t To English and 
American travellers, the unwieldy clumsiness of the French 
diligences, till within the last year or two, was a matter of asto- 
nishment; nor was it till last spring, (1819) that heavy chariots 
were substituted in the place of the hideous tumbril cajffioles, 
in which the mails were previously transported. These changes 
alone have accelerated more than one third the average travelling 
of the public vehicles throughout the kingdom, and a further im- 
provement will no doubt take place, when the roads are kept in 
better order, and more attention paid to the breeding of coach 
korses, and the keeping them in good condition. 

Instead of wagons, the French use prodigiously long carts, 
with nuts jutting out far enough for war chariots, and con- 
structed altogether as rudely as if the model had been preserved 
from the times of the Crusades. The boast of a Frenchman, 
however, is the dexterity with which these beast-torturing ma- 
chines, of thirty to forty feet in length, are balanced, and the 
facility with w^hich the conductor attaches some of the tandem 
horses behind, to prevent the cart running too fast down hill. 

* Creech's Letters on the Statistics of Scotland. 
t Audei'son, voU ir. p. 54. 



355 

But the general etilargement ot intelligence which is taking 
place in this country, promises to remove, before long, the 
relics of barbarism observable in all the utensils of agriculture 
and manufactures. From the acceleration which the establish- 
ment of the society of arts and manufactures gave to the pro- 
gress of the mechanical arts in Great Britain, we may conjec- 
ture the eftects of a similar institution, and of the conservatoire 
des arts et metiers^ on the industry of France. In this latter 
establishment at Paris are already deposited the models of all 
the best instruments and machines used in France, and a very 
considerable advantage has resulted to the nation from it. The 
Due de la Rochefaucault-Liancourt, who introduced vaccina- 
tion, together with numerous improvements in manufactures, 
as well as in the management of hospitals and prisons, is the 
director general of a council of learned and rich manufacturers, 
attached to this establishment. It is not improbable that this 
institution will, at no remote era, be converted into an academy 
of the mechanical arts, for the instruction of classes of young 
men in the practice as well as the theory of t!^ useful arts.— • 
Such an academy would, by distributing over the kingdom a 
knowledge of the best models of buildings and machines, as well 
as all improvements in manufactures known in foreign coun- 
tries, become a source of incalculable benefit to the nation, and 
would be, in fact, what Delaborde calls an Encyclopsedia in 
action. 

I have now probably said enough to give you an idea of the ca- 
pital defects of the municipal system of France. You are not to con- 
clude, however, from thetr grossness, that the whole system of 
government is bad; nor to discredit their existence because the na- 
tional industry is prosperous in spite of them. In physics, the 
natural buoyancy of a body may be such, that it will float even 
under the incumbrance of unnecessary weights; so in politics, tlie 
natural spirit of enterprize may be such in a community as to 
cause the arts to flourish under the burthen of unnecessary re- 
straints. But if the industry of France can be shown (as it un- 
questionably can,) to have made prodigious progress of late 
under these onerous restrictions, what must have been the 
cramps and oppressions ihat smothered her abilities under the 
old regime?-— under that system of laws which denied to females 



356 

the exercise of any trade; which refused foreio;nerS, no matter 
what might be their accompUshments, the same privilege till 
after a new apprenticeship of ten years; which prevented boys 
from beginning an apprenticeship under fifteen years of age; and 
that condemned them to ten years service before they could set 
up for themselves, and then obliged them to work at it exactly 
as their masters had taught them. 

"Freedom," says Gibbon, ''is the first step to curiosity and 
knowledge;" and in proportion as the government of this country 
becomes free, the restraints on private enterprize will gradually 
disappear; and the government will discover that indivi.luals 
can generally walk best alone, without the constant aid of offi- 
cial crutches. No country on earth abounds in the agrpinem of 
life like France; and how infinitely delightful then will she be- 
come, when her municipal administration shall have attained the 
perfection of that of England or of America — when private so- 
cieties shall be encouraged to incorporate themselves for the ad- 
vancement of public good; and capital come forth with confi- 
dence from its hiding places, to improve and embellish the 

country? 

Agriculture was formerly neglected in France because the 
land was held by usufructaries, who had no permanent interests 
in the soil; by Seigneurs who lived on the bounty of the king, 
and who neglected their estates to solicit favours at court; and 
by a Bourgeoisie oppressed by taxation and without capital to 
improve their possessions. The prohibition of the exportation of 
grain, and the internal duties, or octrois^ paid on entering the 
towns, were additional discouragements to the farmer, who was 
besides condemned under the old regime to lie idle about twen- 
ty^eight days in the year in honour of the Saints. By doubling 
the number of proprietors, the revolution gave a great impulse to 
agricultural industry, and by doing away with a superstitious re- 
verence for old systems of cultivation, it prepared the owners of 
land for the adoption of better methods. Improvements, per- 
haps, extend more slowly in husbandry than in any other art, 
because communication is less easy in the country than in towus, 
and because practical men look with much incredulity on all in- 
novations. Thus it happened that although the advantage of a 
rotation of crops, or the introduction of a leguminous between 



357 

two s:rain crops was known - ' - in French Flan«lers before the 
revolution, the peasants and cultivators of the soil in France ad- 
hered almost invariably to the impoverishing three field system 
of wheat, oats, and pasture which had been consecrated by cus- 
tom. Artificial meadows likewise were unknown, until within 
these last thirty years, and the flourishing flocks and improved 
fields which now abound in those districts where thev are intro- 
duced, are a convincing evidence of the good they have done. 
It would require a treatise on husbandry to point out all the late 
improvements in agriculture, and yet it still remains very im- 
perfect in France. From a few facts, however, you may form 
some conjecture of the changes. The agricultural produce of 
the kingdom is admitted to have increased a fourth since 
the revolution. Potatoes have been introduced, and the king- 
dom now produces annually more than twenty millions of hec- 
tolitres. The cultivation of woad and of beets for sugar is also 
a new and great acquisition to the country. The beet is 
planted in spring, and the tops which are left on the earth about 
the middle of autumn are said to augment the ensuing grain crop 
more than a tenth. 

In consequence of a difficulty of separating the colouring par- 
ticles of woad from the remains of the plant, which made two 
hundred pounds only equal to one of indigo, its cultivation was 
neglected in France, after the importation of the latter, about 
the close of the sixteenth century. But as indigo could not be 
procured during the late war, the chemists turned their attention 
to that diflaculty, and a method of separating the colours, as 
from the anil in America was discovered, v/hich caused the cul- 
tivation to be resumed. The vineyards in France have increased 
a fourth* since the revolution; they cover upwards of one million 
six hundred thousand hectares of land, (about four millions of 
English acres) and yield, on an average, about thirty-six millions 
of hectolitres of wine,t one sixth of which is distilled into brandy; 
and the whole is valued at about an hundred and fifty^ millions 
of dollars. The quantity of vegetable oil is likewise greatly in- 
creased, and the present produce in that article is valued at four- 
teen millions of dollars. In 1789 France imported annually one 
hundred and thirty thousand dollars worth of madder more than 
* Chaptal. t About nventy-six gallons each. 

46 



358 

she exported; and now exports three hundred and thirty thousand 
dollars more of it than she imports. The quantity of flax and 
hemp produced at present in France, is valued at ten millions 'of 
dollars, but I have not the means of saying in what proportion 
it has increased. The flocks of sheep have been greatly im- 
proved of late years, owing to the greater care that has been 
taken of them since the introduction of merinos, which happen- 
ed a little before the revolution. This race now yields near a 
million of kilogrammes of raw wool, out of the thirty -five mil- 
lions produced in the kingdom; the whole of which is valued at 
sixteen millions of dollars. The importation of silk into France 
has somewhat diminished since 1789, but the quantity produced 
at home is not much augmented. There is waste land enough 
in the kingdom, -which if planted with the mulberry, would render 
importation unnecessary, although this is naw equal to the produc- 
tion, and the whole amounts to ten millions of kilogrammes, 
valued at six millions of dollars. France produces more than 
fifty millions of hectolitres of wheat; thirty of rye, thirty-two of 
oats, twelve of barley, eight of buckwheat, six of maize, and one 
of other grains, being about a fourth more than she produced 
thirty years ago.* 

These facts, which I have drawn partly from the statistical re- 
turns to the minister of the interior, and partly from Chaptal, 
may give you some idea of the increase of agricultural industry 
in this country since the revolution. Yet it is very correctly 
observed by Delaborde that not a quarter of the land is cultiva- 
ted as it should be with a fixed rotation of crops; and that there 

* The Metre is the fundamental unit of the new French weights and measures. 
It is the ten milUoneth part of the distance from the pole to the equator, and is 
equal to 39-383 inches English. A Litre is a deci-metre cube; equal to 6UJ)83 
inches, which is more than the wine and less than the beer quart. A Gramme is 
i}a!& loeight o^ sl centi-mfetre cube of distilled water, and equals 22,906 grains En- 
glish. An Are is 100 square metres, and equals 119-68 square yards. The Siere 
is one cubic metre and is used for wood. The words Deca, Hecto, Kdo, and 
Myria, prefixed to either of those denominations, signifies respectively 10, 100, 
1000, and 10,000, measures of it. The words Deci, (Jenti, and Milli, on the con- 
trary, when prefixed, signity a tenth, au hundredth, or a thousandth part of the 
Metie, the Litre, the Gramme, the Are, or the Stere. The Kilo-metre (100 
metres) is the new Fi-ench mile. The Hectolitre (100 litres) is most used for 
capacity. The Hectare (100 ares) for land; and the Kilo-gramme (1000 gram- 
mes) for weight. 



S59 

is not in France, a fourth of the animals which the soil is capa* 
ble of nourishing.* The perfection of a system of agriculture 
consists in the general cultivation of the soil; in a judicious rota- 
tation of crops; in the beauty of the races of domestic animals? 
and in the use of the best labour-saving machines. France has 
already nearly attained the first, but is very deficient in the other 
three requisites. ''EUe a tout ce que le travail pent procurer, 
et rien de ce que les lumieres ajoutent au travail."t The an- 
nual average produce of land in France is five and a half dollars;. 
and the average rent is not three dollars, whilst that of England 
where the climate and soil are inferior, is near seven.ij: In tra- 
velling through France one is surprised by the inferiority of her 
agriculture to that of Flanders and Italy, or of Bavaria and Swit- 
zerland. The contrast between the Austrian and French Flan- 
ders struck Arthur Young; and Dr. Moore mentions a female he 
met with on the eastern frontier of France who expressed infi- 
nite astonishment that the Swiss, although heretics, had better 
cultivated farms than their neighbours, the French, although 
these were bons catholiques. In England, even at this day, 
there exists a relic of the ancient prejudice against machinery 
from the specious apprehension of its ruining the poorer classes 
by diminishing the demand for labour. In Staffordshire, and 
the vale of Gloucester, I have seen the farmers ploughing with 
five horses tandfem and two drivers, although it can be demon- 
strated that tht-ee horses abreast are more powerful. A farmer 
near Cheltenham once told me he would consent to adopt the 
latter plan, if it were not for the impossibility of doing so without 
causing one horse to tread on the ploughed land! So ignorant 
was a cultivator of the soil, in that rich country, of one of the 
simplest contrivances of art. Habit has engendered prejudices 
in many societies which the first convictions of reason cannot ex- 
tirpate. The greatest agriculturist in the world once related to 
me a fact in confirmation of this stupid adherence in England to 
ancient customs. He had gone down, he observed, into the west 
of England, on a visit to a nobleman, and during his stay, availed 

* In 1812 there were in France (proper) upwards of two millions of horses and 
mules, about seven millions of cattle, two and a half millions of asses, thirty mil- 
lions of sheep, fom* millions of hogs, and fifty-tMO millions of fowls. 

t Delaborde, p. 269. \ Chaptal; and Delabortle, p. 271, 



360 

himself of every opportunity of conversing with the tenants. 
The practice of ploughing with a long string of horses and two 
conductors struck him as peculiarly absurd, and he one day 
asked an intelligent farmer, whether, if he were shown the art 
of ploughing as much land with one man and two horses, as he 
now ploughed with two men and five horses, he would consent 
to adopt it? The farmer declared that he would, and in conse- 
quence, the gentleman ordered his agent in Norfolk to send a 
plough and pair of horses about two hundred miles to the bor- 
ders of Wales. The new plan was prodigiously admired at first, 
and the gentleman returned home with a hope that he had intro- 
duced this innovation in the v/est. At the next session of par- 
liament, however, he had the mortification to learn that the im- 
provement had been rejected on two reasons being discovered 
against it — one by the ploughman, that it was not sociable to 
plough alone, and one by the farmer, that as a certain number of 
horses were necessary on a farm they ought to be exercised! 

In France the prejudice against innovation is still more in- 
veterate, both because the farmers are a more ignorant class of 
men, and because there prevails here a national vanity which 
disposes many to think their system perfect. When the Duke of 
Clarence visited the mint in Paris, he asked one of its officers if 
they did not u.se the pompe a feu^ or steam engine to move the 
stamps or dice, ''Dieu merci monseigneur," replied the officer, 
'^nous avons en France assez de bras pour nous ♦passer de ma- 
chines." 

The race of cattle in France is a very indifferent one both for 
the dairy and the market. The show beeves in Paris this year 
for mardi gras were greatly inferior in symmetry of form as well 
as weight to the heavy oxen of England, of America, or Tusca- 
ny. The want of hedges in France prevents the cattle from 
grazing, and I do not remember to have seen one fine herd in 
this kingdom, except at Ville Franche, on the banks of the 
Saone, where there exists a peculiarly beautiful race of white, or 
nankeen cattle, resembling in size and figure the Holkham De- 
vons in England. How m.uch better employed might Napoleon 
have been during the last four years of his reign, in scattering 
that race of cattle over France, than in planting his eagles on the 
Escurial and the Kremlin. 



361 

Except the light horses of Limousin, and those of Normandy^ 
which resemble in form the English and New Jersey coach horses, 
those of France are generally a sturdy and tough, but U2;ly race. 
They are vigorous and vicious when well fed, but hard usage gene- 
rally tames their spirit, so that the post boy not unfrequently dis- 
mounts at a hill, and walks up it, tying his whip, and leaving his 
horses pretty much to their own discretion. The French horses are 
much i?nproved of late years, but are still slower than the En- 
glish In posting one seldom makes more on an average through 
the day than a post (upwards of four and a half miles English) 
an hour. Our horses in America, though not so well groomed 
as those of Englartd, have more heart and capacity. Nothing is 
more common in the United States than to meet a man on horse- 
back from the western country ,who has travelled with the same 
horse fifty miles a day, for twelve or fifteen days together; and 
a hackney coach in the streets of Baltimore or Philadelphia will 
contract to travel forty or forty-five miles a day for a week. Now 
in England, where the roads are smooth and beautiful, you can- 
not find a coachman (much less a hackney coachman) who would 
consent to drive more than about thirty miles a day for ten days; 
and in Paris the owner of the best horses will not engage to take 
you in a remise (much less ?i fiacre) more than twenty-five miles 
a day for several days in succession. The Italian vetturinos, 
and the Swiss or French voituriers, scarcely go out of a walk, 
nor travel more than twenty-five miles a day, although they set 
out before it is light in the morning. Whether the hot stables 
of Europe debilitate the constitutions of the horses; or whether 
those animals here are capable of enduring less fatio-ue from 
want of practice; or whether the maize and abundant food in 
America invigorate them; or whether the free use of their limbs 
in our fields when young, endows them with greater flexibility 
and vigour of body, I cannot pretend to determine. 

The breed of hogs in France has been improved, but is still a 
long legged, rawboned race of animals, bearing about the same 
resemblance to the English an<l American hog, that the grey- 
hound does to the New-Foundland cur. Yet accordinjr to Buflbn 
animals degenerate in the western hemisphere! The French 
king could not confer a greater service on his country in the ar- 
ticle of provision than by bringing over that fine breed at Hoik 



36S 

^am, which is a cross of the wild boar of Naples and the Suffolk 
pig of England. 

Notwithstanding the great improvements in farming utensils 
since the revolution, they are still very rude in France. In 
Champagne and in Burgundy, the harrow teeth are of wood, 
and the ploughs are as ill-constructed as any I ever beheld, ex- 
cept in the ecclesiastical states. The Freeborn plough has, 
however, been recently imported from New- York, and has exci- 
ted attention. Unfortunately, there never did exist in France a 
class of men corresponding with that of gentlemen farmers in 
England and America. One of the disadvantages of the late 
political fluctuations has been, an unbounded wish to invest 
funds in land as a solid security. Hence there is but little 
floating capital to improve the soil, and the importance of im- 
provement is not understood. Delaborde excited some surprise 
here, when he stated that the English farmer is a man of the 
world, ''who dresses in the fashion; drinks tea in the morning; 
visits his fields on horseback; has an office for transacting busi- 
ness; criticises Arthur Young; fox-hunts in the winter, makes 
his daughters learn music, and meddles in elections." 

Every year, however, extends the progress of rural economy 
in France; and as soon as the municipal organization of the 
kingdom shall give a proper encouragement to the spirit of 
private association, its advance will be incalculable. Good 
machinery and an improved system of husbandry might double 
the produce of agriculture in a few years. The substitution of 
coal for wood, as fuel, will bring a large body of land, perhaps 
a sixteenth of the kingdom, into cultivation.* 

Agricultural societies are establishing themselves throughout 
the country, for the purpose of collecting and disseminating 

* The superficies of France contains fitty-tvvo millions of hectares, or about one 
hundred and thirty niillions of English acres, as the acre is to the hectare nearly 
as two to five. Less than one half is arable land — two sixteenths are in wood — two 
in rocks, mountains, rivers, roads, and promenades— one sixteenth in pasturage — 
one in heath or common — 'one in meadow — half a sixteenth in vineyards— one 
third of a sixteenth in orchards and kitchen gardens— one fourth of a sixteenth in 
particular cultivation. One fourth of a sixteenth, or one sixty-fourth part may be 
thus divided; 'I hirt) parts in ponds and marshes— seventeen in houses — eight in 
hops, hemp, and willows— thi-ee in olives — more than one in gardens and parks — 
three in nurseries, turf, and canals — aud two in quarries and mines. 



363 

knowledge. Mr. Decazes formed a Council of Husbandry, for 
th*^ purpose of making, in conjunction with the agricultural so- 
cieties in the departments, a course of experiments to discover 
the mode of cultivation best suited to the nature of the soil and 
local circumstances of each particular district. For a similar 
purpose of experiment, and for breeding the best races of do- 
mestic animals, he proposed the establishment of large experi 
mental farms. The king acquiesced in this scheme of his min- 
ister; but its execution has, like most projects for the advance- 
ment of the public good in this country, been postponed. Whilst 
millions are wasted to swell the pomp of monarchy, the first 
central farm near Paris, which is merely leased , cannot begin its 
operations for a year or two to come. 

One of the first changes recommended by the Council of 
Agriculture, was the substitution of pits instead of granaries, for 
the preservation of grain against weevil. They state that pits, 
dug in a dry soil, and defended by the precautions necessary to 
prevent humidity, are used in Spain and Italy, and that they are 
found to preserve the grain ao;ainst decay or alteration for many 
years. Public nurseries of fruit trees have been established in 
many of the departments; and the seeds of several of our fine 
forest trees in America have been also planted in them, since the 
publication of Michaux's splendid work on this subject. M. 
Decazes caused cattle to be purchased in Switzerland and distri- 
buted among the departments, and he offered prizes for the hand- 
somest specimens that may be annually produced of the new 
race. He also sent three naturalists abroad, one to Madagascar, 
one to St. Thomas, and one to the Philippine Islands, to ex- 
amine the agriculture, commerce, and arts of these people, and 
bring into France whatever might be imagined useful. Travel- 
lers too have been sent into different countries of Europe, to 
ascertain what systems of cultivation it may be advantageous to 
adopt in France, In the last address of M. Decazes to the 
king, he states that some pigs, of a superior kind, have been 
recently imported from England. If the choice has been judi- 
ciously made, we may hope that in a few years the French far- 
mers will get rid of the present race, which not unfrequently 
call to mind the spectres in Pharoah's dream. 



364 

Although France has made great improvements of late years 
in rural economy, I do not think any judicious agriculturist, 
who has observed the rudeness of her farming machinery — the 
abundance of indigenous weeds which spring up with every 
crop on the ground — the unskilful rotation of crops even yet 
adhered to, the want of capital, and consequently of stock and 
manure, can think me extravagant, in having asserted that the 
produce of the land of the kingdom might be doubled in a few 
years. Suppose, for example, that the fertility of the soil were 
properly husbanded by a judicious succession of white and green 
crops, instead of being exhausted, as it now is, by perpetual 
aration, and that half the expense of cultivation were saved by 
the adoption of the best machinery, what would be the conse- 
quence of these changes alone?* 

The introduction of artificial grasses and of leguminous crops 
into a country, is of an importance which no one, who has not 
contrasted the condition of a nation before and after their adop- 
tion, can duly estimate. The fertilizing eftects of artificial 
grasses are immense. In Lombardy, the produce of one acre 
of grass, is considered equal to two of grain.. Indeed, so 
beautifully irrigated is all that superb valley, that three fourths 
of the land is kept constantly in grass, which is usually cut four 
times a year, and manured once in two or three years. The 
Lombard farmers have adopted a twenty years' rotation — fifteen 
in grassy-one in hemp and legumes^-one in oats— -one in wheat 
and leo-umes— -one in maize, and one in wheat. According to 
Chateauvieux, the gross revenue of a farm in Lombardy was, 
(before that country fell under the withering dominion of Aus- 
tria,) about fifty-two French dollars the arpent, or about thirty-nine 

* The profits of agriculture, and the fisheries in Great Britain, are near 

As prices are at least one third higher in England, 
deduct one third. 



219 


millions 


sterling. 


73 


mil. 




146 






195 


millions 




95 


rail. 





The profits oi" agriculture in France, are near 
But as there is nearly twice as much cultivated land in 
France as in Great Britain, deduct 

Therefore, the same quantity of land that produces 100 millions in France, 

yields in Great Britain (Avith the fisheries,) 146 millions. 

This must arise entirely from the mode of cultiyation, as the soil and climate here 
are better. 



365 

the English acre. Money is more valuable in Italy than in France, 
and the hectare is about double the arpent, yet there are but five 
departments in France, the average nelt produce of whose soil is 
estimated by Chaptal at ten French dollars the hectare. 

But if there be any country in Europe in which a judicious 
rotation of white and green crops has worked miracles, in van- 
quishing the sterility of the soil, and the un favourableness of the 
climate, it is Scotland. We are informed by Lord Kaimes, that 
till within the last fifty years, (with the exception of small 
patches of wheat and barley,) oats, peas, and bear or pig, were 
cultivated in that country; and I have known a Scotchman in 
America, so retentive of national phraseology, as to call a field 
of three hundred acres a wheat patch. At that time the Scotch 
roads were nearly impassable for wheel carriages; the grain was 
carried to market on horseback; the ploughs were drawn by oxen 
and horses together, or sometimes by ten or twelve oxen; the 
weeds in the fields contended for supremacy with the grain; the 
cattle often perished in the winter for the want of provender; 
peas and oat meal were the chief articles of food; and butcher's 
meat but seldom appeared on the tables of tradesmen or farmers. 
Who, let me ask, that has only rolled in a post-chaise over the 
fine roads that now intersect the Lowlands of Scotland; who has 
observed the luxuriant crops of grain that now wave on her 
fields; the fat herds which low in her meadows, and the snowy 
flocks which bleat over her hills, could imagine that such had 
been her condition before the middle of the last century. I have 
been informed, that when the present president of the Agricul- 
tural society. Sir John Sinclair, was setit to college, there were 
not as many turnips in the whole kingdom of Scotland, as are 
now grown on a single farm. Small's plough, which saved half 
the labour of ploughing, was only discovered about that time. 
In truth, the internal improvement of North Britain may be 
dated from the establishment of the Highland society for the 
promotion of agriculture about tlie year 1784. The great defect 
of a rotation of crops, was soon after discovered to be a suc- 
cession of two culmiferous crops, without the intervention of a 
leguminous, or a grass one. Turnips and clover were conse- 
quently introduced, and consecutive corn crops abolished. By 
this means, poor soils were soon found to justify the expense of 

47 



366 

cultivation, and the fertility of rich ones so increased as to dou- 
ble the agricultural produce of the country. One acre in artifi- 
cial grass, supported more stock than twenty had, in a natural 
state; turnips and hay supplied them abundantly during winter^ 
and the increased quantity of manure still adds every year to 
the vigour of the soil. The Lothians are, for their extent, pro- 
bably the best cultivated parts of Great Britain; and in no part 
of the united kingdom does land rent as high. I have seen at 
Mr. Rene's, crops of oats and wheat almost equal to those of the 
Genessee country. In September, 1818, he told me that his 
crops of wheat and oats would probably yield him respectively, 
I think, thirty-five and eighty bushels to (I believe,) the English 
acre, which is somewhat less that the Scotch. His crop of clo- 
ver was luxuriant, but very inferior to those produced by the 
miraculous action of plaster of Paris on the soil of the United 
States. The humidity of the atmosphere, and the proximity of 
the soil to the ocean, might probably neutralize the nutritive 
properties of the plaster; yet I endeavored in vain to prevail on 
some of those farmers to try it. There is no reason to believe, 
however, that it would not act generally in France, and more 
than double the value of land here as it has in America. The 
only experiment with gypsum which, to my knowledge, has been 
tried in Great Britain, was one made by the great commoner 
Mr. Coke, in the early part of last year. He used four bushels 
to the acre, (four times more than we deem necessary,) and the 
effect, when he pointed out the field to me last July, was dis- 
tinctly' visible. Now there is no soil in England on which, seem- 
ingly, it would be less likely to act than on that of Holkham, 
situa,ted on the margin of the German sea, and exposed to fre- 
quent North East gales, saturated of course with marine acid, 
since till they reach Mr. Cake's, they do not touch any land 
after leaving the country of *'his next door neighbour, the king 
of Denmark." 

As I have called your attention so particularly to the progress 
which rural economy is making in France, I cannot refrain from 
adding some remarks on the wonderful consequences of a new sys- 
tem of cultivation, which has been pursued for many years by the 
Mec^nas of agriculture, the great good man I have just named. 
It w^as a remark of Charles IL that the county of Norfolk was 



367 

only fit to be cut up into roads for the rest of the kingdom; and 
much of it was actually so sterile forty years ago, that it was 
thought incapable of producing corn. I had heard much in the 
other parts of England of the beautiful husbandry of Norfolk, 
and had thoughtlessly fancied that it was a district, in which art 
and industry had brought the cultivation of a fertile soil to per- 
fection. My surprise at finding the soil naturally barren, in- 
creased as I approached Holkham. Perhaps nothing contri- 
butes more to give an affluent air to the face of a country than 
close compact hedges, and my disappointment arose, as well 
from finding those of Norfolk thin and raofged from the po- 
verty of the soil, as from the appearance of the drilled grain 
which never exhibits that smooth level surface of h^ads, which I 
had hitherto imagined the surest indication of an exuberant crop. 
I had just returned, too, from the south of Europe, where, as in 
America, the warmth of the climate gives greater luxuriance to 
the straw of grain than it attains in England. From a few facts 
however, you may observe the advantage of a good over a bad 
system of husbandry. 

Mr. Coke inherited the estate of Holkham from the Earls of 
Leicester, about the beginning of the American war, and his 
Norfolk Agricultural Society met, for the first time, on, I be- 
lieve, the day of the declaration of our independence. At that 
time the rental of the whole estate was only 362.2OO, a sum con- 
siderably less than that which he now derives from the clipping 
alone of the wood he has planted. Parts of the estate were then 
let, tythe-free, at three shillings the acre, and the whole was 
thought too poor to grow grain. The drill system of cultivation, 
once recommended by Tull, had never been in vogue; jQ,t Mr. 
Coke determined to make an experiment of drilled grain. It 
succeeded beyond expectation; and subsequent experience con- 
vinced him of its great superiority over the broad-cast system. 
Sir J. Sinclair, who had in his code of agriculture, expressed a 
belief that there was something radically wrong in the drill sys- 
tem, M'ent, for the first time, to Holkham last summer; and, after 
minute examination, recanted his opinion, and admitted its su- 
periority. Mr. Coke's rotation of crops is this— first, turnips- 
second, barley, laid down with clover or cocksfoot grass — third 
year, and sometimes the fourth, grass and hay — and the fourCh 



368 

or the fifth, wheat. He drills his turnips on ridges, twenty-se- 
ven inches apart, and works therm lengthways with the plough, 
and crossways with the hand-hoe. tn September the crop con- 
ceals entirely the surface of the earth. He drills his wheat in 
rows, nine inches asunder, sowins: four bushels to the acre, and 
works it in the spring with a machine which loosens the earth 
and destroys the weeds. It is drilled, twelve rows at a time, by 
a machine about nine feet wide, and drawn by two horses. The 
same machine makes the drill; carries the manure, (oil-cake,) 
and empties it into the drills through tin horns, which receive it 
from little cups on a revolving cylinder; it also covers the ma- 
nure; drops the wheat over it by smaller cups' and horns, and 
then covers the wheat. I saw fields of wheat at Holkham, 
which were estimated at twelve coombs (forty-eight bushels) the 
acre, and fields of barley at tweiity coombs, Mr. C. shewed me 
a field, about the crop%n wliich, a few years since, there exis- 
ted a very great diversity of opinion among his visitors. To gratify 
the curiosity of, I think, Lord Grey, the field was measured and 
the crop cleaned immediately after its removal. The produce 
w^as fifty-seven and a half bushels per acre. 

These details are sufficient to give you an idea of the immense 
improvement in agriculture which has taken place in the county 
of Norfolk, and the results, I think, justify the opinion of that 
great philanthropist, that if the same methods were adopted 
throughout the kingdom, England might become a grain export- 
ing country. Mr. C. justly considers annual leases &s fatal to 
sood husbandrv, and is convinced that the true interest of the 
landlord and the tenant are the same. He, therefore, gives long 
and liberal leases; and has proved by experience that large farms 
properly managed, are not only the most profitable, but even 
more encouraging to population and the real comforts of the 
poorer classes. The farm which he cultivates himself gives em- 
ployment to all the inhabitants of the parish of Holkham. The 
population of this parish is now four times greater than when he 
took possession of the estate; and I saw no peasantry in England 
so neatly dressed, so comfortably lodged, or so respectful in their 
manners. When he went to reside at Holkham the morals of 
these now industrious happy people were like the morals of the 
same class in other parts of England; but although there are 



369 

seven or eight hundred persons in that parish, there has not been 
lor the last thirty years a presentment by a grand jury against 
one individual. 

Such is the progress of agriculture in Norfolk that the stock 
has become the best in the kingdom. The South Down sheep 
are preferred by Mr. Coke; and his Holkham Devon cattle are 
proverbiall}^ beautiful. In his opinion the Devon breed, when 
put in good condition, require less food, give more butter, 
though less milk, make a greater quantity of good beef at a less 
expense, and are more active under the yoke than any other race. 
They took the prizes last year at his annual sheep shearing, 
which is in fact a sort of agricultural fete of three days, for the pur- 
pose of exhibiting the state and system of husbandry at Holkham, 
and during which this distinguished patriot entertains with princely 
magnificence several hundred British and foreign agriculturists, 
and'distributes prizes in plate to the value of two hundred guineas. 
The days which I passed at Holkham, after the crowd had retired, 
I shall ever class among the most gratifying of my life, so sublime 
and beautiful is the moral spectacle which that estate exhibits. It is 
not the splendour of his princely mansion, and the sumptuous ele- 
gance of his hospitality, and the courteous kindness of his man- 
ners, that alone attract and command rour admiration; for in 
these he may be perhaps equalled by others. It is the benevo- 
lence of his heart which is commensurate with human existence; 
it is that settled rapture of mind with which he contemplates the 
happiness he dispenses to thousands; it is the reciprocal affection 
between him and every thing around him; the glorious devotion 
of his independent tenantry, and the noble gratitude of his con-^ 
tented labourers; it is the entire absence of poverty and vice from 
the scene in which he moves and has his being; it is these which 
cheer and exhilirate the heart of the beholder, and exalt his re- 
spect for human nature. May we not then indulge the hope that 
the time is not very remote when this scene will not stand alone 
and unparalleled in Europe; when that illustrious patriarch shall 
find many to copy, some to emulate, and none to envy him? 

As the drill system of agriculture with its judicious rotation 
of crops succeeds so admirably on poor land, there can be little 
doubt of its producing a prodigious augmentation in the pro- 
ductions of a richer soil. It makes its wav. however, over thai 



370 

intelligent kingdom but slowly, for Mr. Coke does not think it 
travels or radiates more than a mile a year; so that the far- 
mers of Chesltire and Shropshire, for example, and many 
others, are not yet convinced of the advantage of reaping 
forty or fifty bushels an acre from their land, instead of sixteen 
which is now its average product. Wherever Mr. Coke's method 
has been introduced it has been found to create so great a de" 
mand for labour, as to break up those nests of vice and wretch- 
edness, the parish poor houses. ^ Perhaps it is justly stated by 
Malthus thdt the English system of poor laws is "an evil, in 
comparison with which, the national debt with all its magnitude of 
terror, is of little moment." That system in its perversion has not 
only taken away in a great degree the stim^ulus to labour, but by 
breaking down the spirit of independence, and extinguishing 
the sensibility of shame in the peasantry, it has become the 
moral leprosy of England. A system of husbandry, therefore, 
which could root out this demoralizing evil would be, as a moral 
vaccine alone, of infinite advantage to that kingdom; and the 
adoption of such an one in France would not only prevent this 
government from resorting to any similar expedient as a relief to 
indigence, but would add inconceivably to the strength of the 
government, as well as to the prosperity of the nation. Why 
then does not the king of France invite men, familiar with this 
system, into his kingdom; and why does he suffer his agricul- 
turists to go on in the old beaten routine, since he must have re ■ 
sided long enough in England to learn that consecutive white 
grain crops, will exhaust any soil? He has certainly read 
enough to discover that the only chance which monarchy has of 
maintaining itself in Europe, is by endeavouring to emulate 
liberty in the blessings which it confers on nations. Without a 
zeal of that kind among kings, their authority will soon be disco- 
vered to be as useless as the lofty aqueducts of the ancients now 
are, to nations acquainted with the principles of hydrostatics. 

The general division of the great estates of France has given 
an immense impulse to agricultural industry, and the forced di- 
vision of property by the testamentary law has been hitherto very 
serviceable in diminishing the space which separated the rich 
from the poor. It is yet a problem, however, in French politics 
whether that law, though very equitable, may not in its turn 



371 

check the prosperity of the nation, since large farms are found 
to be most profitable when cultivation approaches perfection. 
That it will undermine the foundations of the social system of 
France there can be little doubt, nor is it yet ascertained here 
whether an equal division of property may not be as injurious to 
children as to parents. "Le vrai peut quelquefois n'letre pas 
vraisemblable." Perhaps when estates are thus divided each 
child may expect to live as its parents lived, and hence may 
arise a ruinous prodigality; for that style which was justified by 
a whole fortune may be wasteful and extravagant when to be 
supported by a part of it. An overheated ambition to keep up 
appearances, to excel their neighbours in fine furniture, and to 
live in a style out of proportion to their means, may not only 
break up and squander away all large estates in three or four 
generations, but destroy simplicitv of manners and all content- 
ment with condition. It may become a great misfortune for 
young men to be reared with ideas above their circumstances, 
and to inherit just enough property to prevent enterprize and 
make them idle, without justifying an expenditure commensu- 
rate with their imagined necessities. A vulgar affectation of in- 
dependence may come to characterize the behaviour of youno- 
Frenchmen, and a spirit of violent dissipation to vitiate their 
tastes and moral habits. Let us cherish the hope, however, that 
these apprehensions may prove groundless, and that the same 
admirable and salutary effects which have hitherto resulted from 
that law, may continue to flow from it. ^ 

JVote, As the first part of this letter treats of the municipal system of France^ 
it may not be improper, in confirmation of its suggestions, to compare the ex- 
pense of collecting the taxes in England with that in France, fi-om which the 
reader will observe the advantage of banks and freer regulations, whence the 
difference, in part, arises; England— Customs, 7 per cent. — Excise, 4 — Record-^ 
ing and Stamps, 7 — Post Ufiice, 11— Lotteries — Direct Taxes, 2 — Total 31., 
FiiANCE — Customs, 33 — Excise, '20— Recording and Stamps, 9 — Post Office 45— 
Lotteries, 30 — Direct Taxes, 15 — Total 152. See Esprit des Associations, p. uHl, 



LETTER XXII. 

Paris, April, 1820. 
My Dear Sir, 

In a former letter, I mentioned the exposition of the produc- 
tions of French industry, which was made last year at the ex- 
pense of the government, in the old, or as it should now be 
called, the new Louvre. The magnificent assemblage which 
was there displayed of all the creations of art, from the rudest 
necessaries of life, to the most exquisitely finished articles of 
taste, was very highly gratifying to the pride and vanity of this 
great people. Day after day, during the whole autumn, the long 
and spacious galleries of that palace were thronged by tens of 
thousands of spectators, attracted by the novelty and elegance of 
the spectacle. 

In free countries, such manufactures as administer to the 
comfort and convenience of domestic life arrive soonest at per- 
fection, in consequence of the demand which the wants of the 
mass of a society in easy circumstances necessarily create. In 
absolute governments, on the contrary, such objects as contri- 
bute to the luxury and voluptuous indulgence of the wealthy, 
are frequently brought to a high degree of perfection, whilst the 
articles of mere utility are left as rude and unfinished as in the 
earlier ages of invention. Thus it happened under the old govern- 
ment of France, that whilst her manufactures astonished the world 
by the richness of their silks, and the sumptuousness of their car- 
pets and gobelin tapestry, their productions in the simple necessa- 
ries of social life were uncouth and wretched in the extreme. Even 
to this day, the remains of the extraordinary contrasts which were 
then universal, are frequently visible; and the English or Ame- 
rican traveller, on arriving in France, is astonished at the in- 
congruous assemblage of furniture in the same apartments. — 
Nothing is more common here, than to see magnificent mirrors 



373 

inserted into rustj walls; superb marble mantle pieces, witli 
andirons fit only for a kitchen, and tile floors; silver forks and 
coarse iron knives; silk curtains, and no carpets, &c 

In the present letter, however, it is my wish rather to point 
out to you the progress which the French manufactures have 
made in the last thirty years, than to criticise their present im- 
perfections. Great efforts have been made in foreign countries 
to conceal or to disparage the advantages which France may 
have derived from her revolution; and such facts as it was im- 
possible to deny, have been reluctantly admitted, with the as- 
sertion that she might have attained the same eminence in the 
arts without the entire breaking up of tha.t old system, since 
other nations likewise have improved during the same period. 
This assertion, however, in spite of its verisimilitude, is ex- 
tremely disingenuous, and 1 think I have already said enough to 
convince you, that although the liberal institutions of England, 
for example, which have long fostered a spirit of industry in 
that country, may have given to her manufactures of useful 
articles a prodigious impulse of late years, the same advance 
could never have been made in France without a radical change 
in her system of government. I shall throw loosely together 
in this letter the notes which I made during the exposition, and 
must observe, beforehand, that there are no statements in them 
but those which resulted from my own observation, or which are 
supported by the re])ort of the former minister of the interior, M. 
Chaptal, or of M. Costaz, or of the Central Jury. 

If you ask me how it is possible that a nation, torn to pieces 
by intestine commotions, and sequestered from the world by 
perpetual hostility with her neighbours; a nation whose entire 
surface was for twenty years bristled like the back of a porcu- 
pine with arms, could find time and means to push forward her 
inquiries so gloriously in the arts, I can only reply, that the 
French are a people of extraordinary enthusiasm; that they have 
never wanted any thing but a good government to reach an un- 
paralleled eminence in the arts; and that the illusion of liberty 
acted for a time like the reality upon them. The prodigious 
results of that enthusiasm causes Europe to be as much aston- 
ished at present by the spectacle of what France has achieved 
within, as it was ten years ago by what ^he had conquered with- 

48 



374 

out. In fact, the talent of this people had been so long restrain- 
ed bj the regimen of the straight jacket, that the moment the 
revolution unlaced it, genius bounded forth into the regions of 
discovery with extraordinary vigour and enterprize. Necessity 
is the mother of invention, and when the French beheld their 
ports blockaded by the fleets of their enemies, and their frontier 
circled by a belt of hostile bayonets, their privations forced them 
to turn their attention to their own resources; to the learning of 
their Savans, and the patriotism of their people. The discove- 
ries in chemistry came in, most opportunely, to aid this spirit of 
innovation, and the rage for novelties caused many discoveries 
to be embraced and, pursued, which in soberer times might have 
been neglected and forgotten. The chemist left the silence of 
his laboratory for the roar of the workshop, and enlightened the 
labours of the mechanic by tlve theories of the philosopher. At 
the darkest epoch of the revolution, when the proscriptions of 
the Convention were drenching France in blood, a few philoso- 
phical men, among whom Gregoire was eminently conspicuous, 
proposed the establishment of the Poly technique School, the Con- 
servatory of arts and trades, and the Bureau of Longitude. To 
the pupils of the first, France is indebted for almost all the pro- 
digies of improvement which have inundated her of late years, 
and which have shone so conspicuously, not only in her battles 
and her sieges, but in her monuments— her roads— her canals — 
and her bridges. A society for the encouragement of manufac- 
tures, established by Chaptal, has been very serviceable in regu- 
lating the momentum which the national industry received from 
the enthusiasm of the revolution, and in introducing machinery 
into France. It may be asserted as generally true, that the 
manufactures of a nation improve in proportion to the divi- 
sion of labour, and the adoption of machinery; and that ma- 
chines so far from diminishing the demand for labour, have 
hitherto, from the diminutive price they occasion in the manu- 
factured article, increased it, and heightened the prosperity 
of every branch of trade to which they have been applied. The 
population of the manufacturing towns in England has mul- 
tiplied ten fold since the use of labour-saving machines; and in 
every country, population has been encreased since the inven- 
tion of the plough and harrow. We have an illustration of the 



375 

superior demand, in consequence of cheapening the price, in 
America in the increase of travelling between for instance,) 
New York and Albany since the discovery of steamboats. For- 
merly, one or two stages sufficed for the conveyance of travellers 
between those two towns, and now the number of passengers ave- 
rages about one hundred a day. The vulgar error of imagining 
that the adoption of machinery is a national evil, by keeping la- 
bourers out of employment, formerly prevail ^d even at CDurt in 
France, and inventions were for this reason discouraged. Some 
shallow thinkers continue of this opinion still, and so violent 
was the French prejudice against machines even twenty years 
ago, that the first spinning machines introduced into Nor- 
mandy, and shearing machines, &c. into Sedan, after the peace 
of Amiens, were destroyed by the populace. If machines abridge 
labour, they multiply employment; as price is lowered, the de- 
mand increases; and as produce is enormously augmented to 
meet that demand, it creates new or additional markets for la- 
bour in other departments of industry. 

The manufactures of France derived great encouragement 
likewise from the continental system, which not only gave them 
the monopoly of the home trade, but forced their productions on 
the neighbouring nations. Thus it happened, that in spite of the 
annihilation of her marine, her exports were never more flour- 
ishing than during that period. The downfall of this system 
checked the prosperity of some of the great factories whose 
clumsy machinery prevented their manufacturing as cheap as the 
English; but since the peace, new machines and more skilful 
workmen have come over, and the cotton factories especially 
have prodigiously increased in number and in importance.* 

The expositions of the products of French industry owe their 
origin to an accidental thought of Francois de Neufchateau, a 
minister under the Directory. On the approach of the annual 
fete, in celebration of the downfall of monarchy, a committee 
was appointed to devise the best means of adding new brilliancy 
to the jubilee. In addition to the usual dances, games, and 
chariot courses which were to animate the rejoicings on the occa- 
sion, it was proposed to add an exhibition of the productions of 

• (1821.) In 181G, there were 40,000 bales of cotton imported into Friince; iti 
1820, there were 120,000 bales imported into Havrt". 



the line arts, since the establishment of the new government; 
and as the mechanical arts had then risen into favour, it was 
suggested that their productions would add eclat to the exposi- 
tion. The experiment was consequently tried, and having suc- 
ceeded beyond expectation, has been since occasionally repeat- 
ed at distant intervals. 

The assortment of cloths at the late exhibition established a 
fact of considerable importance to the lower classes in this coun- 
try, viz. the increasing excellence of the coarser cloths, and 
their greater cheapness, arising from the introduction of machi- 
nery. Nor did the finer productions of Louviers and Sedan, 
which have so long been esteemed the first in Europe, lose their 
claim to superiority. On the contrary, specimens of the most 
exquisite fineness were exhibited, and a goldme^al was award- 
ed for the first time to cloth manufactured entirely of French 
"wool. The superiority of the merino tieece of France to that of 
Spain, was likewise established to the satisfaction of the best 
connoisseurs. It is not twenty years since the French manu- 
facturers showed great repugnance to the employment of their 
own wool, and contended it would never supply the place of 
Spanish, because it wanted strength. The Saxon wool, which 
is considered the finest in Europe, is shorter than the French, 
and supposed to give in general a softer polish to cloth, and 
hence, there now prevails in this country an opinion that the 
fleece of the merino gradually improves in northern coun- 
tries. The Saxons drew their merinos from Spain about 
eighty years ago, and the French theirs, near fifty years af- 
terwards; and as the mountainous districts of France will 
counterbalance, it is supposed, the higher latitude of Saxony, 
the French hope to rival them in the general texture of the 
fleece in a few years. Carding and spinning machines were 
not used by the French till 1803, nor machinery in the manufac- 
ture of cloth, till three years afterwards. They now card and 
grease the wool used for cloths and cassimeres. but that vv^hich 
is used for stuffs, shawls, merino robes, &c, where the grain is 
visible, is combed (ungreased) by hands. The advantage of 
machinery is yet greatly in favour of England, where the whole 
operation of converting wool into cloth is sometimes performed 
bj steam, I have seen at Mr. Hurst's, in Leeds, pieces of cloth 



an 

thus manufactured, superior in richness of finish and downy 
softness, to any in England; but I have not found any English 
cloth wear as well as the French. 

M. Terneaux, the most distinguished man in France for his 
patriotic endeavors to improve woollen manufactures, has re- 
cently imported (at great trouble and expense,) the Cachemire 
goat of Thibet, from the down of which the celebrated shawl* 
of India are made Every acquisition which diminishes the spe- 
cie-devouring trade of the East Indies, must be regarded as a 
blessing to the civilized world, and the enterprize of M Ter- 
neaux has therefore entitled him to the gratitude of all Christian 
nations. As the tedious process of the Indian mode of manu* 
facturing their beautiful shawls is the cause of their high price, 
and as manipulation is dearer in France than in the East, the 
Cachemire down would have been of little service but for labour- 
saving machinery. By this means, however, it is ascertained 
that shawls of great fineness may be afforded for thirty or forty 
dollars a yard; and thus the belles of Paris may soon be enabled 
to wrap themselves in the graceful folds of a Cachemire at a 
reasonable cost. 

That part of the Louvre which was appropriated to silks, 
exhibited a superb display of shawls and robes and furniture 
decorations— of gauzes, tissues, crapes in imitation of the 
Chinese, swansdown, painted and royal velvets, of the most 
beautiful designs and colourings. The transparency and light- 
ness of some of those articles, and the downy voluptuous- 
ness of others, as they appeared stretched out in magnificent 
profusion before us, seemed to resemble more the tissues wliich 
the poets fancy to have been created by the looms of their 
immortals, than the productions of human ingenuity. Never 
before did the factories of Lyons, Nismes, and Tours, produce 
such a variety of fancy articles of taste, and of richly embroi- 
dered and figured stuffs for furniture, as on that occasion. New 
mixed articles of cotton and silk were likewise exhibited, in a 
state of perfection hitherto unknown. 

It is only within the last ten years that the white silkworm, 
which produces the Sina silk of China, was propagated, although 
it existed in France. Yellow raw silk was formerly bleached by 
spirits of wine, wliich, independent of its expense, diminished 



378 

the quantity of silk, and left it liable to resume in time a yellow 
tinge. Native white silk is now, however, produced in abun- 
dance. In the last ten years likewise, great progress has been 
made in the art of spinning, dying, and weaving silken s ruffs. 
The machinery of the looms has been much simplified and re- 
lieved from innumerable strings and pedals which embarrassed 
its operations; whilst the number, as well as strength of the 
workmen necessary to conduct them is much less, and the un- 
healthy attitudes, they were obliged to assume for whole days, 
rendered unnecessary. These improvements, which relieve the 
hardships of a considerable number of persons, have chiefly 
arisen from the division of labour, which was prevented be- 
fore the revolution by the regulations which required every 
man to work as his predecessor had worked. Thus, after the 
death of Colbert, and the expulsion of the Huguenots, manu- 
factures made for a century very little progress in France; whilst 
in England the knowledge of mechanics was spreading itself 
every day, and her manufactures improving along with it. In 
this manner Great Britain acquired the superiority which she 
yet holds in most useful manufactures, and from greater skill in 
preparing even silk, although she grows none, some of her silk- 
en articles, and especially stockings, are far better than those 
of France. 

It is only since the revolution that the art of manufacturing 
cotton cambrics, muslins, and calicoes, was known in France. At 
the exhibition, in 1802, there was not a single piece of muslin. 
Last year a variety of cotton goods, of excellent quality, were 
shown, and every day of peace with England enables the French 
to draw over workmen to improve their machinery. As the 
price of labour is much less in France than in England, and as 
the raw material is not dearer, what will be the consequence 
when the skill and machinery of the former get on a level with 
those of the latter? In 1806, the French did not spin cotton 
higher than No. 40, but now they spin as high as 200. It is not 
four years since a calico frock and cotton stockings were 
deemed beautiful in Paris! 

Machines have been very recently used for spinning hemp and 
flax for coarse manufactures; and some progress is now making 
in the more difficult art of preparing thread for lace and cam- 



379 

brie. The manufacture of damask linens was brought here from 
Silesia, after the occupation of that country by Napoleon, and 
the art is now completely possessed. Those of horse-hair into 
stufts for furniture; of varnished leather for morocco, which 
is now better than in the Levant, were unknown till within 
twenty years; and that of hats has prodigiously improved in 
the same time. The art of dying has kept pace with that of 
spinning. Among other discoveries, are the means of colouring 
linen as well as cotton-— of fixing a durable green and heighten- 
ing the vivacity of scarlet in the latter; of impressing Prussian 
blue (in lieu of indigo) on silk; and supplying the place of co- 
chineal by madder in colouring wool. According to Chaptal, 
madder was brought into France by some Greeks before the re-r 
volution, but it is only of late that its properties have been un- 
derstood — that all its various shades of red, from the dull ches- 
nut of Madras, to the delicate hues of the rose, and the lilac, 
have been impressed on cotton. 

Before the revolution, it is true, the French made carpets, 
which were admirable for the fineness of their texture and the 
richness of their colouring, but they were so enormously dear as 
to be almost confined to royal palaces and chateaux. But se- 
veral private manufactories of carpets are now established, and 
have already so reduced their price, as to place them within the 
reach of moderate fortunes, and to introduce a general taste for 
this luxury among persons in easy circumstances. The want of 
carpets, however, is one of the most fertile sources of grumbling 
to John Bull in this country; and so far is the use of them from 
being general, that I have seen persons of distinction dining in 
winter on a marble floor. 

Before the revolution, the French imported much of their 
paper from Holland and England, but they now supply them- 
selves abundantly at home, although the general quality of their 
paper is inferior to that of the latter country. Some recently 
invented machinery makes coarse paper of a very large size at it 
small expense, and accounts for the great disproportion in Paris 
between the price of that and of superfine paper, to the making 
of which it is not applied. It is well known, that the French 
are now unrivalled in the manufacture of furniture paper, and 
- that they have recently embellished it much by the introductioH 



380 

of historical and landscape scenes. The specimens exhibited last 
year surpassed, in taste of design and harmony of colouring, 
any thing of the kind ever before seen. Some new pieces, in 
imitation of velvets, satins, and other rich stuffs, were produced 
by M. Dufour, of Paris, in which the illusion was perfect. 

The inferiority of all hardware articles in France to those of 
England, both in taste and quality, must surprise every travel- 
ler who is not accustomed to see silver forks with coarse knives, 
and uncouth locks on doors inlaid with mirrors. Such great 
progress, however, is here making in the art of working steel, 
that at the late exhibition, six medals were awarded to different 
manufacturers for their specimens of it in the natural, melted, 
and refined state. At the exhibition in 1802, there were no 
specimens of steel, and the manufactory of Beradiere, which is 
considered superior to any other in France, is only of three 
years standing. 

It is only within the last ten years, that the first manufacture 
of yellow brass, (Laiton brut) and of steel and brass wire, were 
established in France. The pewter mines were discovered about 
the same time; and the working of tin, which was then very 
limited, is now nearly large enough for the wants of the nation. 
Iron works were greatly improved under Napoleon. The first 
good files made in France, were produced in 1798; and the ma- 
king pf saws also, is a new acquisition. The first attempt to 
make scythes and sickles was made about the same time; and one 
manufactory made nearly as many last year, as were made in all 
France four years ago. Many articles of steel and iron, how- 
ever, are yet excessively coarse and unsightly. Shovels and 
tongs, as well as locks, are as rude as one might imagine them 
to have been in the times of the feudal barons; and common 
knives are like pieces of iron, drawn out by a blacksmith and 
stuck in a piece of black wood. Models of these things would 
probably be brought over from Sheffield and copied, but for an 
unfortunate conceit existing here even among sensible persons, 
that because they make those articles better than formerly, they 
are equally as perfect as those made in England. The silver 
plate of France also yields, in richness and massy magnificence 
of appearance, as well as in the chasing, to that of Engltind.— - 
In the art of silver plating, they are said to have made much 

* Report of the Jury. t See Chaptal. 



381 

progress here, but the specimens exhibited in the Louvre bore no 
comparison to those made at Sheffield, and were even inferior to 
those of Birmingham. But whatever majp be the defects of the 
French manufactories in these particulars, thej infinitely surpass 
their neighbours in bronze ornaments, and the art of gilding them. 
The lamps with a double current of air, are also a new invention of 
some importance on the score of economy, even independent of 
their ornamental elegance. A great variety of curious lamps 
were exhibited; and the classic biautj of tlieir forms reflected 
credit on the taste for the fine arts inspired under the imperial 
regime. It is a consolation to humanity, too, to know, that by 
the invention of a drawing furaace, the mercurial vapours arising 
from gilding are permitted to escape, and the workmen protect- 
ed from the cruel disorders which formerly devoured those 
engaged in that labour. The annual product of this branch, 
of trade alone, (gilt bronze,) is seven millions of dollars. A 
number of beautifully coloured articles of varnished metal, as 
well as some brilliant ones in tin, (moire metallique) attracted 
every eye. The application of this varnish to tin, is a new 
discovery of M. Allard, and if it should be found to bear the 
action of the air without injury to the colour, the ornamental 
purposes to which it will be applied are innumerable. It has been 
much used for lamps and fancy articles, and with dazzling effect 
on the bodies of some of the royal landai's. 

The French surpass the English infinitely in the making of 
plate glass for mirrors, but fall as far short of them in the 
shaping and cutting of crystal. There is, I believe, a very 
heavy tax in England on the casting of the plate, which pre- 
vents re-casting when the plate is defective, and increases the 
cost of large mirrors so as to limit the demand; whilst the imr 
perfection of French crystal arises from the recent introduction 
of the art of cutting, and is therefore rapidly diminishing. It 
is stated in the report of the central jury, that France has al- 
ready ceased tj import crystal glass, and it is absurdly added, 
that she is as perfect in the art of making it as her neighbours. 
The manufacture has undoubtedly made great progress here, 
and some very resplendent toilette tables, and large pieces of 
furniture of crystal were exhibited. But there was no service 
of glass to be compared to what I have seen in England, and 

49 



382 

especially a set recently sent for the Emperor of Russia. The 
English borrowed the idea of lighting their theatres by a single lus- 
tre, from the French, and their present superiority in crystal is 
observable in the greater splendor of their lustres. But when 
we consider the superior size, transparency, and cheapness of 
mirrors in France, there can be no doubt of her soon rivalling 
her neighbour in the other department. The French first sub- 
stituted casting instead of blowing mirrors, as was practised 
at Venice; and the factory of St. Gobin, which supplies the 
plates to the polishing factory at Paris, is unrivalled in Europe. 
I have seen balls at some of the splendid houses at Paris, where 
all the men being dressed in uniform, in consequence of the 
presence of the princes, it was difficult to distinguish at a little 
distance, the folding doors which opened into other dancing 
rooms, from the mirrors which reflected the company in the 
one in which the spectator was; and I remember at least one 
large window in the Chateau at St, Cloud, looking into the 
Park, of a single sheet of glass, so entirely transparent, that 
until one had touched the glass, it was difficult to believe that 
any thing except the air intervened between the eye and the 
groves and fountains which animated the prospect. Whether 
an equal transparency exists in the windows of many of the 
the houses of thii^ metropolis, it might be difficult to conjecture, 
and certainly not pruder?.t to affirm, since the appearance of 
some of them might justify" a suspicion, that their proprietors 
hold the dust and cobwebs on ttei}^ in such reverence, that one 
might as well expect a Persian to bi^w the fire with his breath, 
as certain Parisians to use a sponge^ i^^^ water on their win- 
dows. 

Great improvements have been made si'^^e the revolution in 
porcelain, and many of the specimens brotf^'^^^ ^o the Louvre 
were magnificent. A vase and a tea table/v'^lued at between 
six and seven thousand dollars each, were indeV<^^i^^^^J beauti- 
ful; and many tea cups, &c. valued at one or tw\) hundred dol- 
lars a piece, were exquisitely painted. Porcelain wa^ considered 
a mere article of luxury when the first manufactu ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ 
established in France, about the middle of the last c entury; but 
the art of making it has been so much improved anc ^ simplified 
of late years, that it is within the reach of all classe'^ ^^ society. 



383 

The royal factory at Sevres, and several private ones in Paris, 
produce porcelain of an exquisite fineness, unknown in any other 
part of the world. The Worcestershire factory in England, 
professes to attempt to equal those of France in richness of 
colouring in general, but to despair of producing that transpa- 
rent purity of white, which is the characteristic of the china 
made of the French clay. Their colouring is undoubtedly rich, 
but it is gross. Even in the set made for the king, there is a 
want of that ornamental lightness and elegance of decoration, 
which distinguishes the French manufactures from all others; 
and the cloudiness of their white prevents their attempting to 
rival the French in landscape and portrait painting on porcelain. 
The English however excel in a sort of middle ware, or mon- 
grel china, suited to the purposes of the middling ranks of life, 
and exported by the name of Liverpool ware; whilst until lately 
the French had nothing between fine china, and miserable delph 
ware. Napoleon gave great encouragement to the Sevres manu- 
factory, and caused the art of painting on porcelain as well as 
on the Gobelin tapestry to be carried to a perfection previously 
unknown. The costliness of very richly painted porcelain must 
prevent its becoming an object of commerce; yet such is the 
beautiful perfection to which M. Dilh carries this art, such the 
delicacy of his shades in colouring, and the icy hue with which 
he throws over a scene, the softness of the Scottish landscape, 
that the art must always be a source of national pride to the 
French. A discovery has been just made by M. Gonard of im- 
printing copper-plate engraving on porcelain by a mechanical 
process; and what is very extraordinary, nay, almost incredible, 
is that he can dilate or compress at will the impression lie stamps 
from the same plate. Some of the examining jurors were ad- 
mitted into his workshop, and after ascertaining the fact, re- 
warded him with a gold medal. I have understood, but cannot 
vouch for the fact that an inhabitant of Caen has discovered the 
art of engraving on porcelain, which, if true, must be of some 
importance, since it will prevent the wearing of the plate, which 
occurs in engravings on metals. There are at present twenty 
manufactories of porcelain in Paris and sixty in France. Litho- 
graphy was introduced into France in 1806, and has been much 
improved. As it serves to multiply with great rapidity, and at 



384- 

small expense, copies of drawings, ft facilitates the acquiring a 
knowledge of those arts, to the understanding of which they are 
necessary, and it has been successfully employed in stamping 
and gilding of porcelain. 

It is almost impossible to enumerate the advantages of the 
discoveries of chemistry to the arts in France. In the art of 
dying, the researches of Berthollet might immortalize him. The 
most beautifully crystallized sugar at the exhibition was from M. 
Chaptal's beet manufactory, and the success of this justifies the 
hoge that France will in time be able to cease supplying herself 
"with this article at the price of encouraging inconceivable cruel- 
ties in the West Indies. The jury bestowed a silver medal on 
the Parisian manufacturers of soap for the progress they had 
made in perfecting this article, which is yet, however, so defec- 
tive that English soap is universally preferred for the purpose of 
the toilette. The making of alum has also been so perfected in 
the last fifteen years as to put an end to the importation from 
Rome. The discovery of the art of purifying it by crystalliza- 
tion has removed the sulphate of iron that formerly gave a tar- 
nish to the lighter and more vivid colours in dying silk. For- 
merly soda was imported; at present it is supplied at home; and 
Clichy now yields an abundance of white lead as good as that 
formerly imported from Holland. The making of black lead 
pencils is also new, but their quality is yet inferiour to the En- 
glish. 

The extracting of jelly for soup from bones, by, I believe, 
muriatic acid, is a recent discovery which renders a signal ser- 
vice to the indigent by producing a healthy and agreeable nour- 
ishment, free from smell, from substances hitherto considered 
useless. M. Darcet calculates that the bones of all the beeves 
and veals brought to the Paris market would by this process 
yield more than half a million of rations, (more than a million of 
soups) daily. The jelly is also used for transparent leaves, for 
drawing, resembling horn, and for transparent wafers; whilst by 
tanning, it is converted into a substance resembling a beautiful 
pink shell. Among the many advantages these discoveries have 
been of, may be reckoned the low price at which they produce 
the acids necessary in manufacturing. The use of salts, instead 
of more expensive agents, has cheapened the price of most arti- 



385 

cles and thus produced a revolution in the arts. In 1789 France, 
imported, for example, soda, to the amount of a million of dol- 
lars, and she now extracts from marine salt an abundance for a 
tenth of that sum. The discovery that the watery vapour which 
rises during the process of distillation with that of alcohol con- 
denses itself in a lower temperature, has simplified the art of 
distillation and made one heating only necessary to produce all 
qualities of brandy. In France where charcoal is used for cook- 
ing, the new discovery of the art of obtaining a third more of it 
by carbonizing; the wood in a closed vessel would have been an 
object of importance, even if it had not been discovered that the 
finest of all vinegar is the substance which escapes during the 
operation. Charcoal is much used also in purifying filthy water 
in Paris, and in sea voyages; whilst animal charcoal is used in 
refining sugar. 

The show of the implements of rural economy at the Louvre 
was neither large nor satisfactory. Some improvements have 
been made in ploughs and mills, but the number of discoveries 
fell far short of my expectation. To one accustomed to the 
lightness and convenience, for instance, of Scotch machinery 
the farming utensils of France must appear very rude and cum- 
bersome; but the improvements of the last thirty years have been 
notwithstanding very great. Before the establishment of the 
conservatory of arts at Paris it was almost impossible to get in 
France so simple a machine as a cast iron plough, and notwith- 
standing their evident economy they are but rarely seen even yet 
in the fields. 

The portable iron mill which Mr. Molard invented for the use 
of the army invading Russia is a very convenient machine, and 
might be very serviceable in the level country of our southern 

states. 

No branch of French industry has been more improved since 
the fall of the old government than that of ornamental clocks, in 
which this nation so far excels all others. In Paris no bed room 
is considered furnished without one, and, therefore, independent 
of foreign exportation a prodigious number are made to supply 
the home demand. Many artists are constantly employed in 
devising elegant forms and tasteful decorations to adorn them. 
Hence light and classical figures have taken the placq of the rude 



388 

an immense impulse to industry in this country. M. Costaz, a 
man of science, who has devoted much attention to manufac- 
tures, has estimated the general products of manufactures in 
France, in 1815, at two hundred millions of dollars more than 
in 1789. But as M. Chaptal only values the products of manu- 
factures in France at rather more than three hundred and sixty- 
four millions of French dollars, including the eighty-three mil- 
lions two hundred thousand French dollars, for the rude mate- 
rials drawn from agriculture, it is possible that M. Costaz's esti- 
mate maybe somewhat too high. \et as cottons, cassimeres, and 
chemical productions are all entirely new, and as the two first of 
these produced about fifty millions of dollars annually even 
three years ago, the aggregate increase may be supposed to be 
nearly equal to his valuation. One of the principal causes of 
this vast increase, is undoubtedly a change of opinion in the 
nation, by which industry is regarded to be more honourable; so 
that such men as the Due de Liancourt-Rochefaucault now 
figure among the manufacturers of the kingdom. In absolute 
monarchies men who apply themselves to the mechanical and 
useful arts, are neither well rewarded, nor much esteemed; whilst 
those who devote themselves to the fine arts are very richly com- 
pensated. Hence, perhaps, it in some degree arises, that whilst 
painting, sculpture, and music, formerly flourished much on the 
continent, those arts which contribute to the solid well-being of 
the mass of society were neglected; and hence, also, the coun- 
try which has carried the useful arts to a higher pitch of perfec- 
tion than any other, (England) has produced the fewest painters, 
sculptors, and musicians of celebrity. Not that I would suggest 
that there is any incompatibility between the flourishing of the 
fine and of the useful arts at the same time in the same country, 
or sanction an idea but too common, that the cultivation of the 
one leads to the neglect of the other. On the contrary, I am con- 
vinced they will both ultimately flourish together. Hitherto the 
opulence and political circumstances of no nation have been ade- 
quate to the full encouragement of the fine and the useful arts at 
the same time. Where wealth has been concentrated into a few 
hands, it is lavished on the discoverers of things which contri- 
bute to luxury and ornament; and the nation in which it has been 
most dispersed, has not yet had time, since its diffusion, to 



389 

complete the circle of the mechanical, much less to perfect that 
of the elegant ones. Yet even already we perceive the En- 
glish giving high encouragement to the fine arts, and rewarding 
the pencil of a West and a Lawrence, and the chisel of a Chan- 
try, as well as the researches of a Davy, and the inventions of a 
Watts or an Arkwright. The same result is observable under 
the new order of things in France, where the useful arts 
have grown into reputation, and the more elegant ones have 
maintained the celebrity they formerly enjoyed. Thus at the 
late exhibition, at the same time that the halls of the old Louvre 
were appropriated to the gorgeous productions of mechanical 
industry, the spacious gallery of the new Louvre was radiant 
with the creations of the votaries of the fine arts. A communi- 
cation between those palaces enabled the throng to circulate 
freely from the one to the other; and the same spectators that the 
impulses of curiosity invited into the halls of the first, were at- 
tracted by the pleasures of imagination into the galleries of the 
second. 

Never, indeed, were there so many admirable productions 
of native talent exhibited; and I doubt whether all the coun- 
tries in Europe have produced, in the last few years, as many 
good paintings as were there collected together. The tone of 
exaggeration^ however, which characterizes the present national 
taste of France, and which but too frequently violates the ''mo- 
desty of nature," was distinguishable in most of them. Genius 
never expressed any thing better than nature, and only difters 
from it in the enlarged capacity of inventing situations, and 
representing them as nature would have formed them. The 
chaste and the beautiful are, therefore, (although the most sim- 
ple and sublime,) the most difficult and the latest of all attain- 
ments in the arts. In portrait painting, I do not, (as I suggest- 
ed in my letter on the fine arts and the stage) think the French 
have any artist equal to Sir T, Lawrence, but in miniature 
painting, Sainte, Isabey, and Augustin, have no rivals. In his- 
torical painting, since the exile of David, Gerard holds the first 
place among French artists. He has, unquestionably, great merit; 
but there is an eternal straining after effect, and a sort of ranting 
in his attitudes, which I cannot admire. His master-piece is 
the triumphal entry of Henry into Paris, and it would be a 

50 



390 

luonument of national genius, if it were not for the superb 
contortions of his horses and men. If the painter had been an in- 
habitant of an obscure hamlet in the mountains of Auvergne, and 
had passed his early youth at a distance from the scenes of a 
court, such ideas of the pompous fury of every animal in the 
presence of majesty might have been excusable. But are 
thev pardonable in one vi^ho has witnessed the most tremen- 
dous revolutions which have ever astonished the civilized 
world— who has beheld Kings on scaffolds, and Corporals in 
palaces — who has twice loitered under the shading elms of the 
Boulevards, and seen the ladies taking their ices at Tortoni's, 
whilst the Czar and his Tartars were marching to tear the 
eagles from the Tuileries, and plant the lilies in their stead? 

There are many inventions and improvements in the arts, 
beyond doubt, which I have forgotten, or omitted to mention in 
this letter; but I have probably noticed enough to give you an 
idea of the impulse which the industry of this country has de- 
rived from the revolution, and from the grand and stupendous 
genius of Napoleon. There yet remains, however, much to be 
done; and if the ill-omened changes in the policy of the govern- 
ment, which are now beginning to throw a cloud over the pros- 
pects of France, should not interrupt the progress of her civili- 
zation? a few years will produce an immense improvement in 
the condition of this people. Imagination is delighted to range 
over the prosperous scene which is before them, if their rulers 
should not destroy it by forgetting that the frenzy of intempe- 
rate friends is sometimes more dangerous than the hostility of 
open enemies, It is to be hoped, that the Bourbons have 
learned the wisdom of liberality from the lessons of history, and 
the adversity of their own lives. If they have not, new scenes 
of affliction await this liberal and gallant people. I must re- 
serve, however, what I have to say on this subject for my next 
letter,* which I mean to appropriate to the moral and political 
effects of the revolution, and to such general observations on the 
presentstate of Europe, as could not be conveniently introduced 
in a narratiye of the domestic affairs of France, 

I am, &c. 

* That letter is the hitroductory one in the present volume^ from p.- 9 to p. 67. 



ERRATA. 



The reader is requested to make the following^ corrections, Avhicli, with seYe= 
ral others of little importance, have arisen from the -\iS. being chafed or worn, 
and from the want of the necessary corrections of the author. 

Page 23 line last, insert arid after kings. 



26 


8 


so before that. 






36 


17 


ago after years. 




64 


14 strike out the word that. 




71 


28 insert cetix before gtd. 




102 


25 


driven after since. 







17 


Dubois was tutor to Orleans and only minister 


iu 






the minority 


of Louis XV. 




104 


38 


that of after tha7i. 




143 


14 


to after not. 






183 


3 


the LOSS o/ after 


against. 




233 


18 


to after arid. 






263 


14 


que after et. 






368 


16 


•wheat after crop. 




6 


24 for 


s'infornie, read 


S'informent. 




12 


6 


mareshals, 


marechaux. 




23 


14 


illiminate. 


eliminate. 




35 


9 


miscre. 


miscre. 




36 


16 


four, 


three. 




55 


17 


Rinish, 


Rhenish, 




59 


34 


government, 


gouvernement. 




75 


last 


Hopital , 


L'Hospital. 




77 


5 note 


St. Bartholemy, 


St. Bartholomew. 






6 


judges. 


juges. 




S8 


14 


mortie, 


moifie. 




97 


30 


This, 


The. 




102 


9 


courts, 


court. 




107 


19 


libre 


libres. 




113 


26 


bustles. 


bustle. 




119 


33&34 


Neckar, 


Necker. 




122 


2 


gretances. 


grievances. 




131 


26 


fine, 


sine. 




11^ 


17 


Pincini, 


Piccini. 




154 


13 


satisfatione. 


satisfazione. 




155 


9 


ampitfieatre 


amphitheatre. 




163 


4 


commanded 


should command. 




191 


8 


habses 


habeas. 




202 


7 


levie. 


levee. 




233 


1 


Bacon, 


Shakespeare. 




Sim 


1 &13 


Quartre, 


Quatre. 




254 


last 


Nanterre, 


Ruel. 




262 


10 


its head. 


their head. 




301 


1 


vivait. 


vivaient- 




30^ 
31^ 


13 


piqures. 


piqueurs.' 




20 


diraunition 


diminution. 




352 


37 


ne pent etre. 


ne saurait etre. 




346 


3 


would. 


could. 




351 


10 


sous. 


sou. 




354 


23 


Cabriole, 


Cariole, 




369 


31 


exhil irate. 


exhilarate. 





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